


The Dark Nights of 1947

by ashipnerd



Series: An Inky Dark Mirror [1]
Category: Animaniacs, Bendy and the Ink Machine, Cuphead (Video Game), Disney Cartoons (Classic), Epic Mickey, Villainous (Cartoon), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Violence, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashipnerd/pseuds/ashipnerd
Summary: An unofficial dark mirror universe to Tap's Bendy and Boris in The Inky Mystery.Mickey Mouse is the leader of the Fantasia Organization. Tasked with keeping the forces of darkness at bay. As such, he and Oswald his brother's job is simple: protect Toon Town and the rest of the country against a broken Hell's power. One night, during a monster attack in the town of Sillyvision, Boris the wolf is turned into a monster and becomes unvoluntarily volunteered as an agent in Fantasia. Together with a certain demon, they hunt the monsters that threaten the people and the country.All the while, something in the background is moving in. And whatever it is, it wants nothing more than to wipe Toon Town off the map.





	1. Act 1 : Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bendy and Boris in The Inky Mystery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726146) by [Mercowe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercowe/pseuds/Mercowe), [ThisAnimatedPhantom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisAnimatedPhantom/pseuds/ThisAnimatedPhantom). 



> WARNING: this story gets DARK. It is a twisted story, using several beloved toons a its characters. It also uses "This Animated Phantom's" story 'Bendy and Boris in The Inky Mystery' as a back drop for this world. Think of this story as a 'Dark Mirror Universe' to her's. At the same time, the plot will mostly be following the anime 'Hellsing Ultimate', with a number my own personal twists mixed in.  
> Another warning. There are some characters that are evil in this story that most certainly are NOT in the shows and books they come from.  
> Tags will be added as updates are added.  
> Is that everything?  
> Good. Now stick around, and enjoy the story!

June: 1947

The Southern Woods of Sillyvision

 

"I'm sorry, but could you run me by that again...?" Officer Snoutfer requested, dumbstruck with the others in the tent at what the mouse standing before her said. "...Mr. Mickey Disney Fantasia Mouse, was it?"

 

The mouse was faced away from them, his coat hanging limply over his shoulders like it was some sort of trusted companion. Close, aged, with fabric memory permanently wedging it into its current form. The tall rabbit that had entered in with him proceed to gently pull the coat off of the mouse's shoulders. He either didn't notice, or it just happened too commonly for him to really care.

 

"Thank you Oswald," the mouse thanked the rabbit as he rolled his shoulders, the weight of the thick coat finally off of him. From one of his pockets he retrieved a piece of precooked long-cold sausage and bit off the end of it.

 

"Very well," he sighed as he finally turned to the people on the other side of the table. "They're Searchers..." he started again. His voice holding only the faintest trace of annoyance, yet still retaining its politeness; as if he had explained this many times before and it had become a routine. His eyes held a look of determination that was somehow both young and experienced.

 

"...and the town of Sillyvision has become a Searchers Den. A Searcher is what happens to someone who's life force is drained from them by a demon. Their bodies melt into an inklike state, their eyes tend to glow yellow, and become under the direct control of the demon. However, they aren't able to stray from their master for more than a few miles. Which means..." the mouse paused as he took another bite of the sausage. "...that there's a demon somewhere in Sillyvision; a monster whose origins are from the pits of hell itself. Send all the police you have at your disposal, Officer Snoutfer. Send in agents and soldiers. They'll just become fodder for the demon to use. Or, they could suffer a worse fate. If a demon bites an untainted toon whose will is broken or allows consent, it can turn them into a monster of their own. And short of a holy bullet to the brain, there's no cure."

 

The pig officer snorted a chuckle that crossed somewhere between amused and insulted. "Demons? Searchers? Monsters? Please, you can't be serious. You really expect me to believe this occult nonsense?"

 

"What could a local police officer like you in a small, small town, possibly know about the topic?" the rabbit named Oswald spat, somehow simultaneously keeping the smile he held. His gaze remained away from her, aimed down at the floor by the legs of the table. One eye masked behind a light reflection in his monocle. "Our family has helped keep these forces at bay for over a full generation now."

 

The officer was surprised for a moment. The rabbit had been quiet so far, and she hadn't expected him to start talking out of the blue. "The Fantasia Organization," The rabbit went on, "which our father founded and we currently operate, is an agency tasked with eliminating all demonic, satanic, and monstrous threats wondering the country." He only now turned his head to face her. "After what was reported and released during the Warnerburg Civil War, I find your lack of belief mildly disturbing, if not insulting."

 

Snoutfer wasn't sure how to respond. She had never really focused on the war, in fact she had been trying to avoid it. What had exactly gone on that she had not seen? What horrors were they talking about? Before she could ponder it, another officer walked in with an updated report.

 

"We've... lost communication with squad #3," the officer quietly announced to Snoutfer. She would have broken out in a cold sweat in that moment if pigs were able to. Squads 1 and 2 stopped responding right before these two had walked in, including 3 it was now 9 officers that suddenly just disappeared. Countless civilians had already gone missing that night, and no one in the town really knew what was going on.

 

"If you want to stop the flow of Searchers..." the mouse finally went on, it slowly dawning on Snoutfer that the mouse and rabbit may actually be telling the truth. "...you will have to terminate that demon at the source," he took another bite of the sausage. "This is where Fantasia comes in. Our best Anti-demon field agent has already been deployed and is en-route as we speak."

 

"W-What kind of agent would handle this?" a dumbfounded Snoutfer gulped, realizing just how serious they really were about it all.

 

"When it comes to Monsters, and demons especially; I can assure you, our agent is the most qualified individual walking this earth. This will be settled shortly." The mouse said all this with a very confident smile, and there was almost a touch of pride in there too.

 

Why now did that terrify the hell out of Officer Snoutfer?

 

**Meanwhile**

 

A tall figure strolled ominously through the woods, his long legs letting him cover far ground at a slow pace. He moved quietly like a goast, he thick leather boots hardly making a sound as he walked, with the shadows themselves around him shivering as they felt his presence. His arms swayed back and forth like a pair of pendulums, in perfect sync with his legs. The overlapping runes on his gloves were obvious and clear. The long coat that branded his arms, shoulders, and back hung just behind him as he walked. The boetie around his neck was a pure white, clean to reflect the moon light and giving it a soft glow. Atop his head were a pair of identical curved horns; silky black like most of his body, a full 7 feet tall.

 

He wasn't wearing a hat, but he was wearing a smile. It was wide, toothed, and seemed to glow like his boetie; when coupled with the red eyreses that gave off a sinister glow of their own, calling the mix terrifying would be a courteous understatement. Especially with the glasses that covered the eyes, making them look like the tail lamps of a hearse. Even without the eyes and glasses, the smile itself was enough to send shivers down your spine. The figure turned his gaze skyward as he stopped walking to admire the white sphere above, somehow the smile adorning his face growing bigger.

 

"Ah yes, what a beautiful night it is," he breathed, his voice cold and smooth as he noted the bare tint of red showing in the moon. The demon was here alright. The figure knew they wouldn't be able to detect each other until they got close enough. When two active demons started to get close on the surface, the moon would often start to redden over the location. A distance away in Toon Town, the moon probably looked just fine.

 

"What a beautiful night it is indeed."

 

**Meanwhile**

 

Boris had never had an easy life; the loss of his parents, that excuse they called an orphanage... A long and slow childhood and adolescence. He had only recently become an adult, but according to his peers he still acted more like an older child than a young adult. Despite all the misery and pain and putting up with years of neglect and loneliness, he still somehow managed to preserve, and even smile. He had been wronged as a pup. Now that he was older he wanted to do as much as he could to help those who had been wronged like him, and to bring those responsible to justice so they NEVER do it again.

 

His career as a young officer had gone relatively smoothly. He was dedicated; having seen and experienced abuse himself he never hesitated to do what it took to stop those who did others harm. He had seen hatred, suffering, and believed he had seen it all.

 

There was only one thing he had never anticipated.

 

Horror and terror.

 

These two similar words could not just be described by definition or emotion. To understand them in their purest form they had to be experienced. When Boris and the other officers responded to a call about some kind of serial killer, everyone was a little shaken. When the first squad sent to investigate suddenly disappeared, everyone started to freak out a little.

 

The trail Boris and two human officers were following lead them to a small Catholic church. The church was set on a hill a short way into the forest along a dirt path. It was old, yet still looked mildly maintained. The structure wasn't falling apart, but it had obviously seen better days.

 

They each tightened their grip on their flashlights and pistols as they approached. The three officers looked at each other and nodded as one of the humans grabbed the door handle; in one swift motion the hinged barrier was open. Swiftly the three charged in, stopping at the rear most pue. Their collective flashlights landed on a sole creature hunched over in front of the podium. Even if you weren't looking at it, you could FEEL it was there. It was like an aura of darkness surrounded it, the shadows blacker despite 3 flashlights focusing on it. Whatever it had been doing, it suddenly stopped when the lights landed on it.

 

Slowly, it turned; its eyrises glowing crimson, its smile wide revealing lines upon lines of fangs. It wore a black Clergy Robe, and even wore a cross around its neck. A demon priest? Before the concept could be rendered, the bloodied corpse it grasped like a puppy flopped over, its neck ripped clean open pouring blood. The three officers who witnessed it gasped at the scene.

 

With a wave of its hand, the priest snapped his fingers. Moans and audible breaths suddenly made known a dosen hidden Searches in the shadows start crawling out to them, groaning. Their black gooey masses lumbering forward, eyes glowing yellow from an unfortunate and unextratable curse. Telling the priest to stop wouldn't have worked, that was beyond obvious.

 

So the three cops opened fire.

 

What happened next was a blur for Boris. In his haste and fear the only things his mind registered were gunshots, the cop on his left being tackled before he was just, CONSUMED by one of...  THOSE THINGS. Then the cop on his right was attacked by the creature that had been feasting on that poor person by the podium. He wasn't a coward by most people's standards, but he knew when it was time to run.

 

He had sprinted back off into the woods, at some point dropping his flashlight in the process. It was hard to run in the dark, though as a wolf he was able to have some better night sight than an average human. How he managed to still run despite the rough and unstable terrain though was a testament to his strong will to escape and live. Though the adrenaline probably didn't hurt either.

 

Worst of all, he knew it was following him.

 

That dark ora the creature had given off, it was behind him. Tracking him, stalking him, HUNTING him; like an ancient feral wolf to a common white tailed deer.

 

He might have recognized the irony if he didn't have more pressing matters on his mind.

 

He hadn't run very far, maybe half a mile; but he had arrived at a large open clearing at the edge of the forest. The town had been mostly deserted, so all the lights were dark. He knew they were still a distance away though, and he also knew they'd be no help anyway. He instead stopped and turned to face the monster that was tailing him.

 

"There's no use running!" it shouted at him; followed by a laugh that echoed through the fields and Boris' ears. Without responding or hesitation, he brought his pistol up and once again opened fire. Short metallic grey streaks whistling behind bangs and flashes. If any hit their mark, they didn't seem to do anything.

 

Then suddenly, the monster was right in front of him. His eyes widened. It was like in that brief moment it had become part of the shadow it cast before jumping out of the shadow at its edge. It loomed over him, its arms wide and imposing. Right before Boris could react, the monster grabbed his free arm, tightly.

 

"Bullets won't help you," it stated. "Honestly, how such a pathetic creature could think it stood a chance against me is hilarious."

 

Something almost snapped inside Boris. He had been called weak his whole life, and recognized the weight still occupied by his pistol. Despite how hopeless his situation currently was, he still had one bullet left in the chamber. With a swing of his hand, he shot it at point blank right in between the eyes of the monster. Its head recoiled back, but it was only for a moment before it started laughing again.

 

Without even looking, it smacked the pistol out of his hand, landing somewhere out of sight. The head dropped back down, the hole the bullet had to have made seamingly gone. Now Boris' terror came back. He was staring right into the face of his death. Its eyereses were red, its fanged smile wide; it suddenly spun Boris around, the presence of those fangs suddenly at the side of his neck.

 

He screamed.

 

Right before the bite was made, the monster suddenly stopped. Both Boris and the monster stared at the new figure that walked up before them. In the dark, Boris could make out a silhouette. Two curved horns were atop its head, it wore a long coat, and the two glass circles that made up its glasses glowed red.

 

"Who the hell are you?" The monster that held Boris demanded.

 

"Your murderer," came the simple reply.

 

"'My murderer'"? the monster said with a bemused tone. "Oh my!" he feigned terror before bursting out laughing. "This is just pathetic, even for a fellow demon. Sorry to disappoint you, but this town is MY catch."

 

The 'demon' apparently, that held Boris then stretched out his hand beside him to command the Searchers that were behind them.

 

"Kill him," he instructed them with a snap. All at once, dozens of firearms from turned officers and gun owners started going off at once. Pistols, rifles, even one or two submachine guns, all wielded by Searchers. The metallic streaks hit their marks, ripping through the figure. All at once, anywhere from fifty to a hundred holes were carved into the figure, showing right through it. Boris could clearly see the buildings in the distance through the openings; even its left arm was cut clean off and a part landed on the ground.

 

For a moment the figure just stood there; then like toppled statue, fell on its back to the ground, impacting the earth with a muted thud, the eyes' lights out. The demon that held Boris released his hold and took a step toward the long-coated figure. The young wolf wasn't going anywhere.

 

"Is that all you got!" the demon laughed for a few moments, mocking such a weak opponent. When he finally stopped, his smile faded as he realized the figure's eyes were glowing again. Then a quiet chuckle pierced the night, the demon and Boris grew looks of fear and surprise as they realized it was coming from the bloodied and shot corpse. The chuckle evolved into full blown laughter, and then they both felt it.

 

Something was coming.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"Y-y-your agent's a demon?" Snoutfer stuttered eerily at the mouse's explanation.

 

"Correct," Mickey replied without skipping a beat, his smile remaining intact. "You see, toons tend to make poor monster hunters. In comparison, toons have weaker minds, their wills are more frail, they're easily corruptible, and don't even get me started on the differences in physical strength. No, the most effective way of dealing with a monster, is another -- more powerful -- monster. And let me assure you, our demon has power beyond your imagination."

 

**Meanwhile**

 

Shadows and black energy surged through the ground and the air. Beneath the corpse a bright red and black pentagram rune glowed hot. The grass around it burned, and a new kind of power was radiating from the creature. Suddenly the shadows exploded vertically into the air, looping back down and slamming into the corpse. Then they swelled like a tornado around it, lifting the creature back to its feet. And while the shadows concealed most of it, Boris managed to see the holes in the body close and heal. And through all that, the smile and lit glasses shone brightly.

 

When it finally cleared, a shocked demon and a dumbfounded wolf stared into the face of what could be either or both of their deaths. With one hand, the healed monster reached into his long coat and drew a massive pistol. In shape it looked like a Colt 1911, but the barrel length was almost a full foot long.

 

Without a second of hesitation, he fired. The shot was loud, at least twice as powerful as the .45 acp rounds Boris had been using. It didn't just break the silence, it ripped it to shreds. Then a streak of light gold ripped through the air, impacting the Searcher next to the demon following the bang. A massive hole was ripped through the head, the Searcher dying and turning instantly turning into a thick, black, and unholy substance that crossed somewhere between ink and tar.

 

Another shot, this one to the Searcher on the demon's other side. Then another, and another, and another. One by one the bullets cut down the dark hord. The wielding monster spun, letting the rounds fly all around him, never stopping to reload despite the number of rounds he shot. How many bullets were in that magazine? The demon had the better question though.

 

"How? How are you killing them!" He was right though, when Boris and the other officers had shot these monsters, they wouldn't die. Now this figure was taking them out with only one shot each. The figure gave the answer as he finally reloaded the glorified hand canon.

 

"The halos of 11 fallen angels were melted down and alloyed with 300 pounds of purified silver. That silver was then forged into these custom made, hollow point, 454 Casull rounds. Everything that's shot with them says dead." His voice was smooth, clear; like some kind of stage performer or voice actor. It sent shivers down Boris' spine. The demon that dropped him grit his teeth.

 

"Fine," it spat with a wave of its hand. "Take the damned town! I'll find some other backwater city to gain power!"

 

The figure's first response was to laugh again.

 

"Have you already forgotten what I said? I distinctly remember making my intentions clear, when you asked who I was." His murderer replied. The demon's puppels shrank.

 

"But why?!" He demanded. "Why save these pathetic toons?! Killing me won't stop these attacks and you know it! So why go after me!?" The figure didn't respond to the demon's questions. He just stood there, smiling down on the two beings in front of him. The demon seemed to notice this, and without hesitation grabbed a hold of Boris again. This time the demon held the wolf close, and hid most of himself behind him.

 

"Don't take another step," the demon warned. "This young one's the last one alive here. I'm willing to let him live; look the other way or just let me leave in peace and I'll let him go."

 

To the demon's credit, had the figure been anyone else, the deal might be considered. On the other hand, it was beyond obvious this wasn't just anyone. The demon should have foreseen that his fate at this point was inevitable. At the same time, it was almost impossible for anyone to predict what the figure would say next as it eyed Boris carefully.

 

"Wolf Pup," the figure said, drawing the attention of the hostage to him. "Tell me; what are you willing to give up to see tomorrow?"

 

Boris was caught off guard at the question. He hesitated, his whole body caught in the shock. "What are you doing?" the demon holding him asked suspicious.

 

"Wolf pup," the figure tried again. "What are you willing to give up to see tomorrow?" He was a bit more firm this time. Somehow  making Boris both freeze and react as he stuttered.

 

"I-I..."

 

"What are you doing?" the demon called out, raising his voice to draw attention that wouldn't be given.

 

"Answer me!" The figure spoke one last time, the barrel of his gun directly pointed at the two. Boris had to give an answer. So much of his life had been painful; he was weak, his muscles never fully developed from the malnourished treatment while in the orphanage. His parents were long gone, the few friends he had left on the force likely were either dead or dying. He owned a small, run down apartment with a jackass landlord. He had himself -- and himself alone -- to comfort him as he sobbed himself to sleep every night.

 

But he wasn't ready to die. He had tried his hardest to keep smiling in a world that had too long dealt him bad hands. He didn't care that his past and his present had been nothing but pain, because there was always a chance tomorrow could be better. It was practically all he had left, the promise of tomorrow in its purest form was the only thing in his life that could keep him going. So what was he willing to sacrifice to see it?

 

"EVERYTHING!"

 

_***BANG*** _

 

The moment the word left his mouth, the gunshot rang through the forest night. For a split second, the world stopped for everyone present; as if building anticipation for what had happened. Then Boris registered his lower chest exploding out behind him as the powerful round ripped through it with no mercy. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates in shock and he found himself falling forward.

 

Meanwhile the demon was struck through the heart, causing him to cry out as a massive hole tore through it. The hollow point round had expanded through Boris like it was designed, causing far more damage than a simple full metal jacket as it hit the monster behind him. The demon cried in pain and stumbled back. He had just enough time to look forward again as the figure charged him.

 

He couldn't move. The angelic magic the bullet radiated might have been watered down and faint compared to the halo of its origin. But even that small amount ripping through the heart of a demon was agonizing. Enough to make labor feel like a paper cut in comparison. So when the figure stabbed his hand into the demon's chest, he couldn't move; and nothing stopped the figure from ripping out what was left of the demon's heart.

 

The demon's eyes rolled back, his lungs seizing, the shadow he had held his whole life crumbling. Then as a finishing touch, the body erupted in a bright purple flame. It wrapped around him like a cursed blanket, turning the body into ash. Then turning the ash to nothing. When it finally cleared a short time later, the figure was left standing there with no trace of anything having stood before him. And he had done all of this with a smile.

 

Boris on the other hand, was not smiling. He could neither move or feel anything below his chest. He could hardly breath, the bullet having gone right between the lower portions of his lungs. The blood was flowing onto the ground and pooling around him. It was bad, and he knew it. The shock was stopping him from feeling any pain, but his eyes were constantly focusing in and out, blurring sporadically. The sky and the few trees that he could see were melting and mixing with each other in his eyes. It only seemed to clear minorly as the figure approached.

 

"I had to shoot you to hit its heart," he explained as he stopped in front of him. "I'm sorry, but there's no time to get help. You're dying."

 

A tear formed on Boris' eye. Was this really it? Was he doomed to perish here? Bleeding out from a bullet wound caused by some cloaked figure whose mission was to kill whatever damned thing had grabbed him? Was this his fate?

 

"There is a way," the figure said as if reading his mind. "It's unorthodox, against everything you probably understand and admire; but there is a method that will allow you to live on in this world. The question is; are you willing to turn your back on the light to live on? Are you truly willing to sacrifice it all to see tomorrow?"

 

Boris' only answer was to reach a struggling and twitching hand to the figure. Trying to reach out and grasp this thing that claimed to be able to help him. He stretched closer and closer, his answer clear to the figure. He held out that hand to the last of his strength; fading all the while until it finally gave out. The hand dropped, limp and useless.

 

It was caught by the figure before it hit the ground. For who and what the figure was, he was surprisingly gentle, yet strong. He didn't grasp Boris' wrist like a kidnapper or rapist, he instead clasped his palm and fingers like you might to a prince at a ball. He also had a kind of strength to it. A strength that would made any magic sensitive creature shiver; regardless of their species or rank in terms of power.

 

Boris at this moment was not magic sensitive, in fact he was barely conscious. He had less than a minute left. If that. With this in mind, the figure spoke again.

 

"I must warn you," he started. "Once this happens, the light and things connected to it will likely be a curse to you. Treat them as such."

 

Then the figure leaned down closer to Boris' face. He remembered seeing the figure's maw open wide, with rows of white teeth and fangs meant to tear and consume flesh approaching him. He vaguely recognized them bite into his neck.

 

Then EVERYTHING went black.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!  
> I honestly don't have much to say. I had planned this to be longer, but I encountered writer's block and I'm too tired today to push through it. I think the next segment might work better as a separate chapter anyway.  
> Little tidbit, in this story the various kinds of famous monsters (Vampires, Werewolves, ect) are all 'sub species' to demons. And also, like Tap's story, demons and angels are a different species in this story. Like I've said before, I'm writing this like a 'Dark Mirror Universe' to Tap's BABITIM.  
> Nothing in this story should be considered cannon to that story or Inky Extras. This is a fan made project; I'm completely separate from Tap.  
> Just realized one more thing. This story is a fanfiction, to a fanfiction, to a fancomic, of a WHOLE bunch of series I'm not even going to try to list here.

**_GASP_ **

 

Boris shot awake, sitting up much faster than he should have. His body was drenched in a cold sweat, and his lungs gasped for air. The memories of what had transpired were fresh in his mind. He could still feel the malign and cold grasp of that creature, see his coworkers be consumed by monsters, hear the gunshots of the night. Wait...

 

Gunshots! He had been-

 

Before the thought could finish manifesting in his mind, he was already ripping the hem of his shirt up to investigate. He imagined rows upon rows of bandages around his chest and beneath the T-shirt, luridly stained crimson and dried all over his body.

 

But there was nothing. No bandages, no blood, not even a scar from the bullet. He blinked once, twice, then let his arms fall back down to his chest with a sigh. Indescribable relief flooded his system, and he allowed a smile come to his face. A dream. It was just a bad dream!

 

**_Yeah, don't count on that wolf pup._ **

 

Boris' head snapped to the right. His ears hadn't heard anything, and no words had been spoken. Yet somehow he knew in that moment that someone familiar to his right had communicated those words to him.

 

It was the figure from his dream. He was sitting at his bedside, back turned, looking over his shoulder. Boris blinked, the figure had the same outfit from the dream too. The only thing different was the lack of any glasses. His irises still glowed a deep crimson, and his pupils were horizontal slits like that of a cat's. When he realized Boris was looking at him, that smile of his somehow grew in size.

 

Boris blinked again. He pinched himself, and confirmed he was awake. So he wasn't dreaming right now, and yet the figure from the dream was here. That was impossible though; the only way that could be is if what happened wasn't a-

 

...wasn't a dream...

 

**_No, it certainly was not._ **

 

It was only then Boris realized the voice he had sensed in his head was identical to the figure's, who looked like he was on the verge of laughing. What happened wasn't a dream; he _had_ gone to that church, he _had_ been chased by a demon, he _had_ been shot and was now -- somehow -- sitting beside the very same one that shot him.

 

The moment that registered, he flailed in a panic and shout that made him fall out of the bed on the other side of the figure. Immediately crab crawling backwards to the wall a short distance away; standing up, flat against it. He stood there, almost hyperventilating as his panicked mind tried to process everything while he and the figure stared at each other.

 

The figure finally stood, and turned to face Boris. "Wolf pup," he started out loud, "how does it feel to be a werewolf?"

 

Huh?

 

The figure pointed to a tall mirror hanging on the wall. Overcome with confusion, Boris practically ran to it with a speed he wasn't aware he had. The first thing he noticed when he got to it was his face. His fir had once been short and thin, sometimes patched in certain areas from his line of work and the treatment he got in the orphanage. Now the fir was thicker, not as short, and the patches were gone.

 

It was his eyes that really drew his attention. It was like he had different eyes all together. His pupils were darker, his irises popped out more, like his eyes were completely enhanced in almost every sense. There was something else too, something mysterious, near supernatural about them. He couldn't tell what it was.

 

He reached a hand up to his face, and noticed his arm in the process, drawing his attention away. What had once been mostly skin and bone with a bit of meat had been transformed. He tapped it and there was almost no give. It was hard as a rock, and thick with muscle and fir. His breath caught in his throat, he could feel the new muscle not just in the arm.

 

He lifted his shirt again, and somehow his eyes managed to widen even further. The short version: he was ripped. What had once been a starved indentation had become a six pack as hard as stone. His fur was lighter on his belly, thinner; and he could see the muscle clear as day.

 

He had never once lifted weights in his life, and now looked like he could make the front page of some workout or propaganda magazine. Therefore, there was only one logical thing to do.

 

He screamed.

 

And screamed.

 

"Could you keep it down please?" Boris finally stopped screaming and turned to the direction of the new voice. From the open doorway walked in a mouse and rabbit. The two held the same smile; and despite the species difference they looked very similar. Brothers, or even half brothers perhaps?

 

"I understand this is sudden for you," the voice -- which Boris could now confirm was from the mouse -- went on, "but do remember your manners. We're not the only ones here you know."

 

Boris blinked. He hadn't even taken notice of where he was. He had subconsciously assumed that he had awakened in his apartment; a single look around the room though instantly disproved that assumption. The walls were made of an older brick and wood flooring, yet were more refined and had a cleaner look. The lights were new and well maintained, as well was the bed he had laid on. The room itself was larger than his entire apartment was; it felt like one of those 3 star hotel rooms he had heard about on the radio.

 

Speaking of which.

 

"I'm sorry, but where am I?" Boris asked the mouse.

 

"You're in Dark Beauty Castle, just outside of Toon Town; headquarters for the Fantasia Organization. We are the monsters that protect the land from, the other monsters." The mouse kept the smile, and bit down on a piece of sausage. "I see you and Bendy are getting along well. That's good. And you also appear to be adapting pretty well considering your circumstance."

 

Bendy? That was the name of the demon? Boris turned to the one in question; he responded with a flash of red in his eyes, and a widening in his smile. Somehow Boris didn't feel the shiver he had last night. If he did, he didn't really notice it. He did take the demon's response as a yes though.

 

Now that he was over the immediate shock, he slowly began to realize that he DID feel different. It was strange, like he had lived his whole life in one body and was now in someone else's. It felt like it was his, but not him. Something inside of him had changed. Something dark, powerful, and strong had been inserted inside of him. It radiated and filled him; yet that thing in of itself felt incomplete. Like it was leaking out through the barred doors of a jail cell, but couldn't leave because the door was locked. He sighed, this was getting weird.

 

"So... I'm a werewolf now," it crossed somewhere between a statement and a question, and was accompanied by a sigh.

 

"Yes," the mouse said, his face remaining the same. The rabbit walked father into the room, one package in his hands and one strapped over his back. "Given your condition, you'll be working for us from now on."

 

The rabbit gave Boris the hand held package first. Inside were a set of grey fatigues with large pockets, embroidered with the Fantasia logo; just his size.

 

"We took the luxury of taking your mesures while you were out," the rabbit said this time. Boris grimised. It took a moment, but he put the uniform on over his boxers and T-shirt before his attention was drawn to the other package.

 

The rabbit sat the case down on the ground and opened it. Boris could tell it was heavy by how the rabbit carried it, and how he put it down. His eyebrow raised at the contents. Inside was a large rifle, and loaded magazines. The bullets were big and glimmered with angelic magic.

 

"What is this?" Boris asked as he took a knee beside it.

 

"The first in a new line of custom Fantasia weaponry. Say hello to Howler I," the rabbit said and proudly stood aside for the wolf to see. "A Semi-Auto Anti-Monster Combat Rifle. She fires 12.7mm consecrated rounds, and weighs 33 Kilos; she'll be your standard weapon for your deployments," Boris and the rabbit looked at each other for a moment.

 

"Deployments?" He asked, bewilderment growing.

 

"We're an organization that hunts down monsters like what you faced last night," the rabbit explained. "We'll be sending you out with Bendy to hunt down the ones that appear."

 

Boris grimmised, again.

 

"Relax," the rabbit said. "In principle, it's not actually too different from your work as an officer."

 

That didn't make Boris feel any better, at all. The rabbit noticed this though and frowned. Boris looked away, his gaze falling down to the rifle he was hunched over. He couldn't do this!

 

"139."

 

Boris' attention snapped over to Bendy as the demon finally spoke. He had stood up at some point and was standing beside Boris. His smile was replaced with a blank frown. Somehow it made him feel less intimidating.

 

"What?" Boris asked, the number seamingly having come out of nowhere.

 

"139," Bendy repeated himself. "That's how many people died because of that single Demon's rampage."

 

 _That_ got Boris' attention. He had known that the number of people who had been attacked had been far more extensive than the department could report. But he had no idea that the damage had been so severe. Or that it could be that severe.

 

"If you want to prevent more from dying in the same way," Bendy went on, "you will take that gun, and stand up." With that said, Bendy walked right to the room's exit. "There's a group of demons on the attack in Inkwell Isle. If you want to help stop them, follow me."

 

Boris stared at the exit, and watched the demon walk straight through it. Boris bit his lip; what should he do? He looked to the mouse and rabbit, hoping either of them would have an answer. They didn't, it was his choice and his alone.

 

So many people had died, too many.

 

Boris was no stranger to suffering, death, or even the concept of him killing. More than once he had done what needed to be done to save those in danger. Often in those times he had little choice; their life, his life, or the life of another. He had tried to convince himself at some point that he could take comfort, comfort in the fact they couldn't hurt anyone else now.

 

It didn't really help him sleep though.

 

At the same time -- judging by what Boris had seen -- these were no ordinary murders. It seemed that when a demon was on the prowl, the only thing to do was put it down to stop them from hurting others.

 

With hesitation clear in his actions, Boris finally stood with the rifle; slinging it over his shoulders as he followed Bendy out the door. It didn't take him long to find him, and after walking through the castle they made their way out into the night, past the back gate. While he was there, Boris looked up at the castle behind him and his eyes widened in awe. It was a lurid stone formation, imbued with majesty and scale. He now knew why they called it 'Dark Beauty Castle'.

 

He turned back around and ran to catch up with Bendy. A short way down the road was a large clearing. Behind the castle, hidden partly by the forestry around it, lay a dirt runway.

 

Boris paused for a moment. It had never actually occurred to him how they were going to get to this 'Inkwell Isle'. Now it made sense. Mr. Mickey had said they protected 'the land'. That had to mean more than just Toon Town. There were two DC-3 transport planes, one was standing on the runway with its engines running.

 

Worldesly, the two stepped aboard the plane. A command to the pilot, and it started down the tarmac; lifting into the air and turning south east. All the while, Boris clutched the gun in his grasp uncomfortably.

 

And it wasn't because it was heavy to him, nor was it awkward to hold.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"Come now, you two are brothers! You shouldn't be fighting among yourselves," Allison scolded the two boys in front of her. Their heads were hung in shame, regretful of their actions. Childy patience, and childy tempers. Allison sighed. "Listen," she started, kneeling down to them. "Violence is never the answer; except when used against Monsters and Demons."

 

Behind them, she saw a man approaching. She instantly recognized him, and for a brief moment her eyes narrowed.

 

"You two go on back to your room," Allison instructed sweetly. "I'll speak to you boys in the morning."

 

"Yes Ms. Allison," they both said before they walked down the hall back to their room.

 

Allison let her smile flatten as soon as they were out of sight. She turned back to the man who approached her. He gave her a warm greeting.

 

"Allison Angel," he said with a smile, slightly hoping for a return greeting. He wouldn't get one, and her expression didn't change either. He closed his eyes and sighed; it was just business then.

 

"Joey Drew," Allsion finally said. "I'd say it's good to see you again; but if it's you personally who's here, then there's a reason for it. And also knowing you, it's either a really good one, or really bad one."

 

Joey would have laughed in most cases; but this wasn't a laughing matter, so he didn't.

 

"It's about Fantasia," he finally said. "They're becoming more active, and are a more effective anti-monster force than we anticipated." This strangely seemed to lift up Allison's spirit, as not only did she grin, she gave a toothy smile.

 

"Fantasia?" she chuckled. "Please, they're Toon Town amateurs. Kindergarteners in comparison to our work. Angels have been fighting the forces of darkness long before Fantasia was even conceived."

 

This line of dialogue didn't seem to phase Joey, and his face remained unreadable. Allsion's expression fell back down to a more serious level.

 

"So, why are you here; and why does it concern me? Surely Toon Town can take care of their own."

 

"It's not just Toon Town."

 

Wait.

 

"What?"

 

"They've been subduing demonic threats at an astonishing level across the country. We've confirmed that there's an attack underway to the southeast of Florida; on a series of islands known as Inkwell Isle. Unfortunately, when we signed that agreement with Fantasia after the war, the Isle wasn't covered. Theoretically, both of our organizations have free reign to operate in it. Fantasia is already on the move."

 

Allison's smile returned.

 

"So I'm being deployed to Inkwell Isle. Berries!" She said excited. She had always wanted to visit something tropical once. "And if I so happened to run into Fantasia?"

 

"Just remember," Joey said. "The J.D.S is the only organization The Upper has contacted directly with orders. _We_ are the ones that carry out its will."

 

That made Allison's smile glow. "'The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs at them. Then he rebukes them in his anger and terrifies them in his wrath'. Amen."

 

**Meanwhile**

 

Mickey had just taken a bite of sausage and sat down in his office to relax. Before he could settle though, Oswald rushed through the door. The rabbit had a panicked look on his face, breaths heavy like he has just run through half of the castle. In fact, Mickey realized, that's probably exactly what happened. Oswald took a moment to collect himself, and finally spoke.

 

"We just got word from intelligence, the J.D.S knows we've sent something to Inkwell. They're on the move as we speak."

 

Mickey's eyes narrowed. The J.D.S stood for Joey Drew Studios. It was a cover for a secret organization; one that took black operation assignments for The Upper. More often than not, they employed fallen angels who still wished to do things in the name of The Upper. Their fallen nature was considered tainted, and so were not afraid to taint themselves farther to ensure others didn't have to.

 

Noble in surface level appearance, often not so in execution. Most of the time, they took out considered threats or just people The Upper didn't like. This was regardless of who or what they were, or what they did. The fallen nature of these angels made them both brutal and efficient. Not too far off of Fantasia's methods.

 

Too bad the two hated each other.

 

"How many agents did they deploy?" Mickey asked as he stood from his chair.

 

"Just one. It's more who they deployed I'm more concerned about." Oswald explained. "It's Allison Angel."

 

Mickey froze.

 

"D-did you say Allison Angel?" he asked his brother. Oswald nodded with a similar attitude.

 

"God knows what would happen if she ran into Bendy and the pup," Mickey whispered breathlessly. This was definitely bad. He shook his head, and put a determined face on.

 

"I'll leave for Inkwell Isle immediately," Mickey said as he walked to the room's exit. "Fetch my gun, sword, and two body guards. While I'm gone I want you to keep your eyes on the J.D.S."

 

Oswald nodded and left to get the requested items and personal, while Mickey went to get the plane ready. It wasn't long before the piston engines of the other DC-3 roared the plane down the runway and into the sky. A mouse and 2 human body guards armed with Thompsons being carried in its fuselage.

 

To say Mickey was worried was an understatement. Allison's original name had been Alice, but she changed it when she had fallen. Afterwards, she had gained a reputation, and did not earn it through doing nothing. She was one of the Big Three, and earned more than a few names for herself. Allison the Passover Angel, Allison Angel of death, Allison ashes to ashes Angel.

 

Mickey prayed she and Bendy hadn't started killing each other yet.

  


Weapon Showcase

 

Fantasia Custom Arms Inc. #001: Hyde

Semi-Auto Anti-Monster Combat Pistol

Ammunition: Hollow Point 454 Cassul

Weight: 13 Kilograms

Barrel Length: 11 inches

32 Round Rune-Extended Magazines

 

Fantasia Custom Arms Inc. #002: Howler I

Semi-Auto Anti-Monster Combat Rifle

Ammunition: 12.7mm Browning

Weight: 33 Kilograms

Caliber: 63

36 Round Rune-Extended Box Magazines


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter!  
> I wanted to put something funny here, but I wasn't sure what would work.  
> Anyway, Inkwell Isle! And LORE. I love Lore! I'm happy to say I now have an idea of how long this story will be. Next chapter will be the end of the first act. I'm looking forward to getting farther into the story.  
> Deeper down the rabbit hole we go.

Inkwell Isle: Central Island.

June: 1947

 

The two demons were having the time of their lives. They were both Budlings who were on their first surface rampage. One was male, the other female, and they had known each other for years; so what better way to start their courtship than by sharing such an experience?

 

They were still young, neither of them being old enough to start turning Serchers yet. Still though, that didn't stop them from tearing through much of the suburbs. The looks on the faces of those they murdered were almost as delicious as their victims' souls and blood. Together the two of them consumed monumental amounts of the crimson liquid. What they didn't, they used to write mocking messages on the walls, filled with profanity and demonic symbols. Daring anyone to stand in their way.

 

In short, the two Budlings felt like gods.

 

Blood is the liquid currency of the soul, to consume it is to consume the soul of another. The vampires of southern Europe had been the first to discover this fact. To consume the blood and flesh of a mortal for the first time; for monsters it was akin to a kind virginity. The vampires and werewolves had become so much more thanks to the efforts of the demons that turned them.

 

The Budlings' powers were still rather weak though. They may have undertaken the process of drinking and consuming, but a Budling was still a Budling. At the moment, young and underdeveloped. They had ways around this though, the male had a Chicago Typewriter, and was making good use of the gun as they split up to search one house.

 

Midway through gouging on another victim, the male heard something that made him stop and turn. Not because it was terrifying, but because it was out of place, not to mention odd. It was a knock on the front door. A simple knock on the front door? The male walked to the hall that lead to the door and could sense that there was a demon right outside. The question was, why was he standing behind it? The other two demons the Budlings had arrived with were downtown.

 

He would have asked, if he wasn't suddenly met with a volley of gunfire. Glowing streaks ripped through the front door like it was paper, tearing into him. He screeched in pain as the bullets impacted his body and pushed him back against the wall.

 

In his agony, he looked up and saw the door crumble. Revealing a cloaked demon, eyes glowing behind a pair of glasses. Immediately, the younger demon brought the submachine gun up to bear and opened fire. He broke out into a psychotic laughter as the bullets raced into the other demon, watching as dozens of holes were afflicted.

 

Then the gun became silent as the ammo depleted; the Budling clicking the trigger more than once, still caught in cocky excitement. Then he noticed something was wrong. The demon that had knocked on the door was still standing, and the holes that were just there were now gone. His smile quickly shifted to panic.

 

"You're unable to transform your body. You don't know how to control shadows or blood. You can't heal any of your gunshot wounds. And to top it all off, now that you're out of bullets you can't even defend yourself! Yet, you head out like a Fledgling, and pretend to be mature enough to take part in an event like this?!" Bendy was livid. How _dare_ these excuses try to levitate above the rest of their kind. He would not show mercy against these maddeners that thought taking shortcuts was a valid idea. "You disgust me!"

 

The Budling tried to run, tried to head for a window or some other opening to escape the house-turned-death-chamber. Bendy made sure to respond to this by filling him with holy bullets. Round after round tore through the demon's body, so many in fact that it actually pinned him against the wall. The barrage only stopped once Bendy's gun was empty. The moment it was, his free hand found its way into the Budling's chest.

 

He almost didn't bother ripping the heart out; opting to just crush the damned thing and be done with it. It only took a moment for the flames to come. The unholy purple glow rendering the demon to nothing.

 

The moment it was done, Bendy turned to leave the house. No point in standing around. The occupants were already dead, and the other demon was getting away. He could sense her running as fast as she could down the street, trying to get as far away as possible.

 

_**Wolf pup; your turn.** _

 

Boris blinked. That was really going to take some getting used to. He shook his head. Now was not the time. From the roof he stood on, he could see the female demon a distance away, the gap between them widening.

 

_**Wolf pup, what are you waiting for? Take the shot.** _

 

Boris bit his lip.

 

"Bendy, she's already -- what -- 300 yards away now?"

 

_**350\. And she's still running. Take the shoot. Aim for her heart.** _

 

Boris at this point had already put Howler I up to his shoulder. It was so light; and it felt uncomfortably natural. What was Bendy thinking? He couldn't even hit the broadside of a barn at this distance!

 

_**If you shoot like a human, you'll miss like a human. Don't worry, you'll put the bullet right through her.** _

 

"But it's so dark, and I don't even have a scope."

 

_**Don't trust your eyes; as good as they are, you can't see everything at once. Close them, and focus on the target.** _

 

With a deep breath, Boris followed his instructions. The world seemed to slow, growing dark as he shut his eyes. Then something inside him gave. He could sense something in front of him. A pulse? He confirmed; soft and fast beating a distance away, around 440 yards. It was moving. He concentrated on that pulse, and it became clearer. He made out the form of a creature running at near impossible speeds. He could almost see her face, panicked and frightened. He heard her heart; felt it thumping rapidly in her chest. He had her. The sights lined up. He let his finger find the trigger.

 

The gunshot echoed; chasing after the consecrated round as it shreaked through the air, never wavering from its course. Boris followed it with this new sense of his, through the air and over the street until it finally struck the demon. He felt it enter her heart.

 

And just like that, it was over.

 

He came back to reality as his eyes snapped open, his mouth agape. The bang had been loud, yet it hadn't hurt him. The gun weighed a lot, yet it felt so light. The bullet was huge, yet he felt practically no recoil. It was almost pitch black out, yet he could see better than during the day.

 

_**Well done Wolf pup.** _

 

And now he could hear a voice from Bendy. Like some kind of telepathy? He looked down at his hand, and rolled his knuckles. The gloves had strips of Fantasia holy silver along them, designed so that he could do damage if he needed to use his fists. Not that he wanted too. It all was feeling so unreal. What on earth was he becoming?

 

Bendy placed his hand on Boris' shoulder. To say he was pleased was an understatement. Choosing him had not been a mistake, that was clear. Boris was strong. He was already doing much better than Bendy had expected. Bendy wasn't yet ready to express pride; at least not until the pup had finished maturing. Still, his token smile was huge, and he couldn't wait to find out what color Boirs' eyes would glow.

 

He might even find out. There was still one more demon they needed to take care of. This one was no Budling either. Judging by the screams from downtown, there were Searchers. That meant a mature and experienced demon. Maybe even a challenge for once.

 

And Bendy's smile grew even larger.

 

** Meanwhile **

 

As Mickey was flying southeast, he was reviewing some of the intelligence he snagged before he boarded the plane. A map and a list. The map marked all the places Fantasia had defeated a demon across the country, numbers beside the markings indicated the order of the attacks. The list had corresponding numbers; indicating when the attacks took place, how much damage had been done, and how strong the demon was.

 

"Too many," Mickey whispered quietly to himself. There had been too many attacks recently. Random, merciless, pathetic acts of barbarism and evil. Keeping Fantasia active, drawing attention and resources. A part of Mickey wasn't surprised.

 

In 1939, the devil had been beaten for the first time in centuries; by a demon no less. Consequently, much of the devil's influence and wealth on The Surface was lost, along with practically all the debts and contracts he had collected over the years. Hell became on the verge of fracturing. Especially when that same demon disappeared and let the devil keep his position; as weak as it now was. To say the position and the power with it was in of itself fractured was an understatement. Now that everyone knew the devil could bleed, several demons broke away; they turned into warlords vying for territory and influence inside Hell.

 

Practically right after, the Warnerburg Civil War started on The Surface.

 

Oversimplified; it was a 3 way war between the city government, the ACME Corporation, and the Populist Syndicate. The war raged on for 6 total years, coming to a close in 1945. The Syndicate almost won in 1942, but over leadership disagreements it fractured with coups and revolts. This made it week enough to be completely wiped out by the other sides of the war over the course of 2 more years. The Government and the ACME Cooperation signed an armistice a year later.

 

During the war, the devil was defeated a total of 2 more times. The second time was by a toon, and the third was by an angel. The three who managed to accomplish such a task became known as the Big Three.

 

Alison Angel was one of them.

 

Now, what do you think happens if the king of demons is defeated 3 times in the same decade? Well, first his reign of terror became no longer absolute once everyone realized he could be beaten. Hell then shattered into pieces, and the civil war rages on.

 

During and after the Wanerburg Civil War, demons quickly and quietly began to move to the surface without the consent of either the devil or The Upper. Many even took part in the Wanerburg Civil War. The Upper tried to quell the destruction that so many demons being let loose caused. However, the situation had gotten so complicated by that point, the angels couldn't do much at face value in the city; no one was sure who to fight. To say that they weren't able to help could 'cause civil unrest' though was an understatement.

 

In fear of their own civil war, the Upper's Council decided to pull out of the war after only a few months in 1940. Unfortunately, they had already been involved for those months; that fact was unavoidable. Many angels who had been dispatched and were fighting had seen so many horrid things happening they didn't want to leave. Most felt that they would be abandoning the city to the demons if they did. Most refused to leave. Panicked, running on paranoia and fear, the Council declared that any angel who did not return to the Upper at once would be considered fallen.

 

Over 600 angels became fallen over night.

 

Even after the Warnerburg Civil War came to an end, demons still continue to slip to the surface. The devil was still alive, and now was just trying to bring Hell back under his own control, not bothering if a few slipped out. The Upper's Counsel couldn't do anything about it directly either; the politics were a can of worms that no one wanted to open. So instead, during the war, 2 rival organizations were set up. The JDS employed many of those 'war fallen' angels to continue hunting the demons in black operations given and sponsored by The Upper.

 

Fantasia was the other. Mickey and Oswalds' father wanted toons to be able to look out for their own kind, without having to constantly rely on the Upper for protection. Protection that, he became convinced during the war, was unreliable. His dying command in fact was for Mickey and Oswald to keep as many as they could safe. However, the Upper refused to recognize Fantasia as more than a vigilante group, while the JDS became akin to their military police. Despite this, the JDS at the end of the war had been willing to negotiate territory; and if not an alliance, then an agreement to stay out of the other's way. In the end, they both agreed to hunt demons first over going after the others' organization; but it was a complicated game of chess, with both sides vying for superiority in the background.

 

Demons were constantly escaping Hell and reigning havoc on the surface, that fact was a constant. But now something was off about it. It went beyond just a batch random incidence. These attacks were now happening all throughout Fantasia's territory, and at an alarming rate too. Big enough to warrant their attention, but not much bigger. Low power, yet high quantities. There were exceptions to this, of course; but a pattern was becoming apparent.

 

It was almost like someone was purposely keeping them busy, maintaining a continuous distraction to cover something. The question was, why? Who was doing this? What were they trying to hide? What did they want?

 

For now, Mickey needed to concentrate on the present. They were flying over Florida now, pretty soon they'd be arriving in Inkwell. He needed to be ready for anything when he landed.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

_***BANG* *BANG*, *BANG*, *BANG*.** _

 

Gunshots rang out through a lower floor in the building. Flashes lighting up the darkened hall of what used to be a Hotel. Bendy wasn't surprised the Demon was here, Hotels always have very low vacancies during the summer. Especially on a hot-spot tourist location like this one. Perfect place to gain a quick army of Searchers.

 

The Casino here on the Isle was huge too, in fact it used to be run by the devil himself! Although he was now rather occupied, and had long since left the place to new management. A Civil war in Hell would do that. None of the devil's closest lackeys were here either; so it didn't surprise Bendy that someone thought they could take the place. Frankly, he was surprised no one tried sooner; what with how well the Isle was doing without the literal devil around. Then again, most of the people that used to live here left after their debts were burned.

 

The Hotel Bendy was in had beautiful decor. It had once been an office building for a number of bees, but the queen had left and building came under new management. To say it had been renovated was an understatement. It had a massive chandelier in the lobby, mixed with wooden arches over the hall entrances that were waxed and shining. Red carpets, some gold lining. Jazz was faintly playing over the intercom. It all had a nostalgic 20s-30s feel to it, rated at 4 stars. Of course, that was all kinda undermined by the fact that all the lights were out, the street was dark, and all the inhabitants of the building were either now Searchers or just plain dead.

 

Speaking of which, Bendy was biding his time casually eliminating the Searchers that kept coming after him. Hyde was a great gun, he'd have to thank Oswald again for designing it for him. It was making quick work of the horde.

 

The slide on the pistol locked back as the magazine emptied. With a click, he let the depleted container fall to the ground. Inserting another into the gun well, he clicked the slide forward again to chamber a new round.

"Your turn," he motioned to Boris and the werewolf stepped forward. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder, mumbling to himself as he aimed down the sights.

 

"They aren't, really people anymore," he tried to convince himself. "They're more walking pumpkin heads than people."

 

He pulled the trigger, and one of the Searchers heads exploded; the body liquefying before fading away entirely. Boris blinked. He had expected to feel some small amount of regret, an ounce of guilt perhaps; but he didn't. He felt nothing. It was like his own psyche had been altered. Consciously, he knew he had just committed something akin to murder; subconsciously, he was feeling as much as he would if he swatted a mosquito!

 

That should have disturbed him, yet it didn't. And the fact that it didn't disturb him, should have disturbed him more; yet it didn't either. So he pulled the trigger again, and another Searcher fell. He did so again, and took a deep breath this time. The more of the Searchers there were, the greater the risk of more joining them. He put his conscious objections aside for now. He had a job to do.

 

Boris took the lead as they continued to sweep the Hotel, floor by floor. Each floor the Searchers seemed to grow more numerous, bringing them closer and closer to the demon commanding them. All the while, Boris had subconsciously started to walk and shoot faster. 5 floors up, he was practically running through the halls, mowing the Searchers down one by one. This was exhilarating, it was even getting kinda fun too!

 

Recklessly, he hit a few that didn't die; passing them without much of a thought. Bendy quickly dispatched them.

 

"Wolf pup," Bendy lectured the werewolf ahead of him. "When you shoot, aim for the head or the heart. These people did not ask to become Searchers by choice. Since there's no way to turn them back once they've been changed, all we can do is put them out of their misery."

 

Boris pulled the empty magazine out of Howler 1, tossing it aside carelessly. He reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a loaded clip, inserting it as he turned around. There, Bendy saw what he had been looking forward to. Boris' pupils had turned into a voidlike black; while his irises were glowing a supernatural vibrantly. A reflection of his mind state and power.

 

The eyris' glow: a brilliant emerald green, with the shade and shine of the jewel itself.

 

"Yes sir!" Boris smiled as he drew the cocking lever back, a loud metallic slide and click chambering a new round in the massive rifle. Bendy's own smile grew in response, this really was getting exciting! And it looked like it was about to get better too.

 

From around the corner, the demon in command of the Searchers walked into sight. His form looked rather standard, like an overgrown imp with stereotypical horns and a tail. Talk about a lack of imagination. His eyes weren't any less red though, and the two Fantasia agents could feel the dark power radiating from him. Boris was quick to line up the demon in his sights.

 

Only for Bendy to grab the barrel of Howler I and gently lower it. Boris looked at the cloaked demon in confusion, making an audible noise to match. He couldn't tell if Bendy was looking at him or not, the moon light was reflecting off his glasses. His smile was still the same though.

 

"You've come up here just to spoil my plans," the demon accused. He cracked his knuckles in a threatening fashion. "What'da say to settling this like real demons? How 'bout a duel?" the other demon challenged. "A fight to the death."

 

Bendy responded to this by cracking his own knuckles and stretching his fore-arms. "All right," he accepted. "It's been a while since I've had some fun." Suddenly the hallway seemed to grow a few shades darker as the 2 demons were beginning to flex some of their power. "Let's dance!"

 

Boris decided that being literally anywhere else was a good idea; and so he slipped into one of the rooms to get out of the way. Bendy took a step toward the other demon, the two of them feeling and flooding the room with collected shadows. It may already have been night, but for a demon the battlefield could never be too dark. Both sides studied the other's shadows, and prepared their opening moves.

 

_*Shhhhnnk!*_

 

Everyone froze, their eyes widening from shock or surprise as the sound of a blade met flesh. Bendy stared at the other demon, or more specifically, the blade that was now sticking through his neck. The demon whirled to his left, the direction the blade originated from. When he saw what was there, he scrambled to escape only for a dozen more blades that flew through the air, pinning him against the wall.

 

Bendy's smile disappeared, and reacting quickly, he looked at the blades closer. The blades and handles were glowing from the angelic runes that covered them. He recognized a few. There was one for sharpness, one for weightlessness, a few for stability, and strength, and even a summon rune. What really surprised Bendy though was what kind of blade they were.

 

They weren't daggers or short swords, they were bayonets. Model 1861 Springfield Socket bayonets. But no one still used muskets except...

 

He didn't get the chance to finish the thought as a magic barrier materialized around the building. Angelic in nature, its sole function was to stop dark magic, or beings possessing it from leaving or entering the bubble the barrier created.

 

Bendy paused as he felt something else. A presence that seemed to ring like a whisper, a comforting glow in a hellish night. Yet both were faded just slightly. Bendy wasn't sure if he should love or hate it. With the noticed presence came footsteps; clacking heels against the wooden floor. Then finally, she appeared from around the corner.

 

The first thing Bendy noticed was the obvious halo that glowed above her; then the unnatural horns sprouting from either side of her head, and her hair drawn back in a ponytail. She was a fallen angel alright. She had a smile on her face, he couldn't tell if it was more joyful or not. What he could see though was the black dress she wore, and Bendy had to admit it did fit her well. It showed off her curves without showing too much skin. She also wore a suit jacket that hugged her frame, except for the sleeves which looked just slightly too wide. Sexy. What almost seemed to fit her better than all of these though, were the duel bayonets she held in her hands; fresh blood dripping from them.

 

She finally turned to face him, her eyes glowing gold. Her smile got bigger, and he returned the look with one of his own. Her form was emphasized even farther from the window behind her, spilling moon light into the hall.

 

"You must be Bendy," she started. "The great domesticated demon that hunts his own kind. What a pleasure to meet you."

 

"And you must be Allison Angel. The JDS' Purifier." He put his hands in his side pockets in an almost relaxed manner. "This is the first time I've met a fellow member of the Big 3. Then again, I'm sure a meeting was only a matter of time, given our reputations," he shrugged. "Now then, where's the other demon we were hunting?"

 

"Oh him? He's dead," most people would stare in confusion at the nonchalantness of the conversation the two were having. On the other hand, there was literally nothing in existence that could scare either of the two. With confidence in their minds and forms, they both started walking toward the other. "He wasn't much fun really. Went down in 2 seconds, I didn't even get a chance to enjoy it."

 

Bendy let off a quiet snort, his smile never fading as the two approached each other. Click, click, click; thud, thud, thud. Footsteps echoed through the hall. They only stopped as the angel and demon stood 1 or 2 yards apart, still facing the other with smiles as they ceased walking. The temperature dropped by a few degrees. A cold silence growing, spreading through the building as the face off began.

 

Finally, the tension broke. Reacting at impossible speeds, Bendy reached into his coat and drew his pistol again. So close were they, it wasn't hard for Allison to deflect it, and then stab the demon straight through the chest with both bayonets. The holy blades ripped pain through Bendy's chest cavity, and he cried out in reaction.

 

He jerked away backwards, pulling the handles right out of the angel's grasp; giving him enough time and space to finally get a shot off. A single **_*BANG*_** ripped through the building, the flash a blinding contrast to the room still filled with shadow. The bullet roared through the air for less than a split second before it found flesh and bone.

 

Headshot.

 

The angel's body stumbled back, and fell limp against the wall; eyes shut, halo still glowing above her head. Bendy stood straight, and without hesitation or pause he pulled the bayonets out of his chest. The wounds healed quickly, and he let the bayonets fall to the ground as he remarked.

 

"You took a demon, head on, in the middle of the night, with the battle ground flooded with shadows, knowing that demon is one of the Big 3. You're a brave angel Miss Alisson," he complimented. "But you're also a fool. I'm not surprised you were the last one to defeat him."

 

With that said, he turned to head down the hallway to Boris. Their work here was done; with the other demon having been taken out by Allison, there was no one left to hunt. He was about call out and tell Boris as such, when he suddenly felt movement behind him. Followed by a woman's laugh. Without time to react, two more bayonets rushed into Bendy's back.

 

"WHAT?" That angel was still alive?! For once, Bendy couldn't believe it. He had shot her right in the head! The pain from the bayonets was quite real though; and it was not pleasant. To get away, Bendy somersaulted. Using the shadows in the room, he kept himself flying down the hall, inverted. With quick pulls of the trigger, he sent a barrage right at the angel. She took multiple hits, and went sprawling against the floor.

 

Only for a moment though. With a single, very smooth movement, she stood back up and charged right at him. On her face was a smile that looked almost psychotic; and once again, her bullet wounds were gone. Bendy, no longer inverted at this point, began to raise his gun up to add more.

 

With a flick of Allison's wrists, six bayonets fell into her hands; one between each finger. She barely had enough time to settle with them before she hearled them at the demon she ran at. The force of the bayonets flying through the air was so powerful, not only did it break the windows along one side of the hall, it pulled much of the glass with them.

 

Bendy countered using quick, precise, shots. Within two seconds he had dispatched the bayonets and the largest shards of glass. Only for a hand to suddenly come into view from behind them. He had tunnel visioned on a distraction, and realized his mistake too late. The hand pushed him against the wall, and suddenly a bayonet for each arm nailed them into the wall beside him.

 

Before he could do anything else, Allison drew two more blades across each other, honing their edges. Then with one precise movement, she decapitated the demon.

 

Bendy's severed head rolled a distance down the hall, away from his body. Allison looked at it for a moment, before she broke out in laughter.

 

"That was it?!" she called out. "This was Fantasia's trump card?! The 'Great Domesticated Demon'! What a disappointment."

 

She sighed and shook her head, she hadn't been this disappointed since the war. All well. She would have to clean up what remained, that wolf pup should be too hard to...

 

She blinked as she saw the pup run down the stairs at the other end of the hall. She glanced down at where the demon's head was. Yep, it was gone. Somehow he had snuck by her, grabbed the head, and made it to the other end of the hall without her noticing.

 

She hummed with a smile. Maybe today wouldn't be so boring after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--let's see how much I can get away with writing before Ash notices me. Oh this is going to be fun!--


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! This one is much shorter than the others, but in my mind is a good closing to Act 1. I'd like to thank everyone for their amazing comments. They are really uplifting, and do make my day. So, tell me what you love! Tell me what you hate! Where can I improve so I can keep bring you all great content! Thank you all!  
> -ashipnerd

Boris ran through halls, down the stairs until he got to a lower floor. His eyes were wide, tearing up from the devastation around him. The glow in his eyes had long since faded, and he was feeling drained. Then again, he wasn't sure if that was the crash from whatever high he had been on, or if it was the fact he was clutching Bendy's severed head close; like a scared child would hold a teddy bear.

 

He slowed as he passed over puddles that used to be Searchers, remembering that the things used to have souls and he had shot them with no hesitation. Oh God, he had even started to have fun doing it too. It made him feel sick.

 

He couldn't think anymore. He was alone, surrounded by the carnage he had made. Dragging his feet, he finally stopped and leaned against a wall. With a deep breath and a sigh he held up the head and looked at it. The face still had that look of surprize Bendy had before he had met his fate. He shut his eyes and looked down, a tear sliding down his face.

 

What was he going to do now?

 

_*Shhhhnnk!*_

 

Before he could think about it, a bayonet stabbed right into Bendy's head. It tore it from Boris' grasp and nailed it to the wall. Boris' gaze immediately snapped to the other end of the hallway. Allison's halo pierced the night and the bayonets in her hands shimmered. Boris didn't know if the liquid dripping from the blades was blood or not. Scratch that, he didn't want to know. Allison walked toward him, slowly but deliberately. There was no question what her target was. On top of Boris' crashed state, terror crept up on him like a deadly spider.

 

_I have to get out of here._

 

This was the thought that kept looping inside Boris' distorted mind. Again and again. It was the only thing that was clear enough for him to act on. Dased, confused, and perhaps even in shock, he found himself trying to make it to the window. He saw his hand reach out in front of him, a heightened survival instinct the only thing keeping him moving at this point. His hand reached the window.

 

_Zap._

 

Boris' hand recoiled back, an almost electric current that was more an imitation than anything. It hadn't hurt him physically, but it had reacted harshly with something inside him.

 

"That is a magic barrier," Allison explained as the gap between them began to close. "It prevents monsters like yourself from escaping by using their own power against them. You can't leave, and help can't come."

 

Now Boris couldn't even breath from his terror. The world was coming down on top of him and there was nothing he could do. Another bad hand, more pain and suffering; only now he himself had become something terrible. He was no longer a simple righteous officer of the law. If there was ever a horrible time for karma to come bite him in the tail, this was the worst possible time. Then again, when didn't karma bite him in the tail?

 

_I'm going to die._

 

This was the new thought that filled his mind. Over and over. Again and again. He froze, teeth grit. He was going to die. He was going to die. Oh God, he was going to die!

 

**_Come now Boris. You know better than that._ **

 

Boris' eyes snapped to Bendy's head, and couldn't believe it. Somehow the head had a smile on its face. Then it began to stretch; like slime oozing down a wall, the head liquified into a semisolid mass as it slid around the bayonet. It plopped to the ground with a wet _*splat*_ , finally turning into a complete liquid.

 

Then the inky liquid began to move; like drops formed from condensation on a mirror or a can. The drops moved into lines parallel to each other; then curved, molded, and stretched. Boris' eyes widened as he realized they were turning crimson and forming words!

 

**_Drink my blood, wolf pup._ **

 

That was the opening to the message, and Boris' eyes continued to widen as he read on farther.

 

_**Drink my blood, and become complete. Your transformation is not yet finished; but you have tasted the power you are capable of. You are strong. A single palmful of my blood alone will be enough to complete your metamorphosis. You will have power, enough so that no one will dare want to stand in your way. There will be nothing you will ever have to fear again! There is precious little time. Come Wolf Pup~ No. Come, Boris The Werewolf! Show me what you are destined to be!** _

 

All Boris could do for a moment was stare at the message written in blood. He could feel the power radiating from the liquid, an offering for him from his protector and teacher. His whole body was shaking.

 

With an unsteady hand, he began to reach for the blood on the floor. A thirst he hadn't noticed until now pulled the hand toward the liquid out of instinct. Yet, he hesitated. Uncerenty began creeping into his mind. Could he really do this? Was this right? His hand paused as the questions were pondered. Now he began to enter a internal conflict with his mind and his instinct.

 

A shadow loomed over him. In the time he had spent reading and pondering, the angel had managed to get right up to him. He had just enough time to look up to see Allison, and horrifyingly she was holding one of her blades over her shoulder in a striking position. Without even enough time to flinch, she swung it down. Her target, his neck.

 

_***Bang* *Bang* *Bang*** _

 

Three gunshots rang out, the bullets hitting the bayonets in Allison's hands; breaking them before they hit the werewolf's neck.

 

"That pup belongs to me," Mickey said as the werewolf and angel swung their heads over to him. He was holding a Walther ppk in his left hand, slightly diagonal. The gun was still smoking from the bullets it had fired. A body guard stood on either side of him, Thompsons in a firing stance. Allsion snickered and Boris rolled away, coming to his senses finally.

 

"Mr. Mickey Disney Fantasia Mouse. I must say I wasn't expecting you to be here~"

 

"Enough Allison," Mickey cut in. "Neither of our organisations can afford this kind of battle. The fact that you're here, and in a position to talk to us at all, is a violation of the agreement we signed together."

 

Allison laughed.

 

"Firstly; that treaty was signed by my -- quote, unquote -- supperiors. Not me. Secondly, I honestly don't care. Our organisations will have to fight eventually, and I don't see the point in drawing it out over twenty years when we could do it now..."

 

With that unfinished paragraph, she suddenly charged. The two body guards that were with Mickey opened fire immediately. A hail of bullets flooded the hall, several striking Allsion, though she brushed it off and just healed them. A pair of fresh bayonets met the necks of the body guards. Mickey had just enough time to draw his rapier to block them for himself.

 

"...And thirdly," Allsion went on as her blades pressed against the sword. "I'm sure if my superiors knew how terrible of a 'trump card' you had, they never would have signed in the first place."

 

"What are you talking about?" Mickey asked as he struggled to hold back the angel. God, she was strong!

 

"That demon of yours was barely a threat, the job only took 30 seconds." That made Mickey's eyes go wide.

 

"You... killed him?" A look of disbelief molded onto the mouse's face. Allison smile got bigger, and she pressed a little harder on the mouse.

 

"Yeah," said quietly. "In fact, you just missed his decapitation."

 

Mickey paused. "You cut his head off? Is that it?"

 

"What?" Now it was Allison's turn to be surprised, as a smile returned to Mickey's face and he even lightly laughed. Then she heard a bolt cock back and a bullet fell onto the floor.

 

"Get your hands off of Mr. Mickey!" Boris cried as he held the barrel of Howler I close to her head. Allison chucked again. Boris still wasn't a threat to her; so she returned her attention to the mouse as he spoke.

 

"This isn't looking good for you, Allsion," Mickey stated with confidence. "I'd run if I were you. While you still can."

 

 _That_ really got Allison going. "Are you insane?" She asked through her laughter. "I'm going to paint the walls with the two of you!"

 

"Then you better be quick," Mickey shot back. "Because that demon you decapitated isn't dead!"

 

Suddenly, Allison felt it. An unimaginable level of shadows and dark energy from across the entire Isle had gathered around her barrier at one specific point. Then with a force neither she or her magic was prepared for, it all came crashing through, shattering the barrier.

 

The macabre force flooded the hall, rushing down it at a speed only darkness was capable of. Almost immediately, her vision went dark and she felt the darkness pull on the light she emitted.

 

"Cut off his head?" Mickey called out from somewhere in the hall, the dark not effecting him in the slightest. "Pierced his heart? He is NOTHING like what you have ever faced. Simple tricks don't work on him! And make no mistake, you may be the finest monster hunter among the JDS..."

 

By this point, the darkness had begun to gather and take shape. An adumbrate that somehow seemed to suck more light out than the rest of the shadows.

 

"However, a full generation of knowledge and experience helped to produce THIS achievement! Fantasia's crowning glory! Bendy the Ink Demon!"

 

By now, the outer darkness had been absorbed and finally took a solid shape. Before Allison's eyes stood the ink demon, alive, standing, and smiling. The smile was as large and cocky and terrifying as ever.

 

Not giving him a chance to think, Allison charged. He reached into his coat, probably to grab his gun. She wouldn't have that. She jumped over him, and with a swing in her summersault she cut off both of his arms. When she landed, she looked to expect an armless demon. That was not the case.

 

From his shoulders sprouted black bones; over the bones grew muscle, over the muscle grew skin, and over them his cloths grew back. Even his white gloves which had no way of being put on formed, runes on them and all! He finally got the chance to pull out Hyde, aiming at the angel.

 

"What will you do now, Allison?" Mickey asked from the other end of the hall. For a moment, she was silent.

 

"I'll leave," she finally said, a small smile still on her face. Not a smile of fear of malice, but the kind of smile you would get when thinking about an upcoming vacation. "I'm going to need further preparation for this one."

 

From inside her jacket, she pulled out a number of angel feathers and threw them into the air. They circled around her, constantly increasing in speed and glow as they surrounded her with angelic magic. "We will meet again Fantasia!" She called out; and with that she absorbed the magic around her, and teleported away in a flash.

 

The flash cleared out the shadows that had flooded the room, returning it to state it had been at before the confrontation. Mickey sighed and stepped forward after everyone adjusted.

 

"Are you alright Bendy?" He asked the demon.

 

"Yes," he responded rubbing his throat with his hand. "It's been a while since I've had my head cut off."

 

Mickey nodded, then got serious. "Allison has disobeyed the treaty, attacked without provocation," he looked down at the bodies of what were his bodyguards, "and killed my men. The JDS will have to pay dearly for this."

 

He took another deep breath.

 

"However, right now they are not our main concern. There's someone who's behind a good portion of these attacks. We'll need to figure out who before the destruction becomes too sevar."

 

Bendy smiled. "Shall I hunt them down? Crush them? Wipe them from the earth? Just give the order and I will do so without hesitation."

 

"When the time comes," Mickey nodded, "I will."

 

Bendy's smile grew in response, and let out a subtle noise of excitement. Then he looked down at the gun in his hands, and his smile dropped. "Remind me to ask Oswald for something a bit bigger. If I'm going to take on Allsion again, I'm going to need something more effective than Hyde."

 

"Oswald should have something being cooked up already. We expected that this would happen eventually. We just didn't expect it so soon after the war."

 

From behind them, Bendy and Mickey heard Boris slide to the ground against a wall. He was exhausted, feeling a condition that was the magic equivalent of a sugar crash. He was taking in wide audible breaths, trying to bring in as much air as he could. Mickey looked at him for a second, then turned to Bendy and asked him a question.

 

"Tell me; why did you turn him?"

 

"Why indeed," Bendy smiled. "For fun? For sport? That doesn't sound like me though; does it? I'll let you know in due time. I can't even be sure if the choice I made was the right one; not until Boris can tell me himself."

 

With that, Bendy began walking to the wolf in question. It didn't take long for him to get to him. "Why didn't you drink the blood?" He asked.

 

Boris looked up in his sitting position. Bendy was towering over him, looking like a giant from where he was. Boris could only stare for a moment, before Bendy asked the question again. In response, Boris just looked back to the ground and grimised.

 

"I thought..." He started. "I felt, that if I drank it, it would mean the end of something. Like a part of me I'm not ready to lose yet would be taken from me, and I wouldn't be able to get it back."

 

"That's foolish," Bendy immediately responded as he turned away, his smile gone. "However, you may have a point. It's about time I stopped walking alone through the night." With that, he started walking away toward the exit.

 

"Come along Wolf Pup."

 

"Yes sir," Boris smiled, and picked himself up. He started running after him, not easy given how tired he was. "But Bendy, my name isn't Wolf Pup, it's Boris~"

 

"Enough," Bendy stopped, turning his upper body to look at the approaching wolf. "You are a wolf pup, so Wolf Pup will do."

 

Boris scoffed, only slightly offended. "You're mean!" he whined as he chased after the demon. Mickey smiled in the background. The two were getting along quite well. He hoped that they could become friends. And perhaps more.

 

  
**Meanwhile**   


 

"I don't like this," the guy said as he took another breath of his cigarette.

 

"This is where the trail runs dry," his companion commented. "The door was blown to bits from gunshots. Maybe the demon went back to Hell after this," he said pointing to the mauled corpse on the floor of the house.

 

"Nah," the guy shook his head. "None of the victims here have bullet wounds. It wouldn't make sense if the demon just decided to waste all his ammo to break a door when it wasn't done for the others. Plus the casings outside are different."

 

The companion turned to him. "So you think the demon was killed here?"

 

The guy walked up to the wall, and knelt down before he took a sample of the blood with his gloved hand. He took one whiff of it, recoiled, and wiped it off his finger on an untouched part of the drywall. "Yep, this is demon blood alright. So he was at least shot here, and we know whatever schmuck did it had holy bullets. A lot of them, if they can waste so many on a single demon like this."

 

"Think it could be one of the organisations?" he companion asked as turned to the guy.

 

"Could be," the guy sighed. "If it is, it means we can finally get the go ahead for our employer's plan."

 

"You sound tired Cups," the companion said as he leaned against another wall, concern in his voice.

 

"Mugs, we have been trying to keep this isle alive ever since our old boss finally left for good. Now we gotta deal with this," he motioned to the crime scene. "Yeah, I'm tired. I guess our reputation in the criminal underworld is starting to fade."

 

"I kinda expected that to last for a full decade at least considering how it was," Mugman said as he brought a hand up to his chin.

 

"Honestly, I'm actually surprised it lasted this long; given how quickly people tend to forget," Cuphead responded as he put his hands in his outer pockets.

 

"'Think we should contact him?" Mugman asked as the two walked to the door.  

 

"Yeah," Cuphead nodded. "If both of the organizations were here, that means they're both free game. We'll have to ask him to get the things we need if we're going on the attack."

  
**End of Act 1**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Honestly surprised Ash hasn't noticed me yet. Can't make this long. The guy has no chill does he? I wonder what I'm like in this story? Guess I'll have to wait to find out. Unless~ wait he's coming back! Gotta go!--


	5. Act 2: Two Cups And a Demon Walk Into a Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, yes it did used to say Mickey ate licorish. I changed it to sausage when I remembered that Mickey and Oswald both like hot dogs.  
> Also, if you all hadn't noticed, the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit takes place in 1947. Yes, that was intentional.  
> Anyway, I'm tired, it's like I haven't been waking up right these past few days. I got a sore on my lip that hurts whenever something touches it. So, that's a bit annoying.  
> Also, I have plans to release a new story called something like, "Crimson Dusk Extras". A side story that takes place during the closing scenes of the Warnerburg Civil War, and covers a few other things.  
> Oh, one more thing, whoever is writing notes at the bottom of the chapters, you can quit it now. Thanks.

It was early in the morning; the dawn not yet broken, but still fast approaching. Not that anyone could ever tell in this place. At the moment, Bendy was too preoccupied to have noticed even if he was somewhere else. He was weak, drained, exhausted. He felt cold, colder than usual; yet the air around him was hot. He was drenched and thirsty, with a dry mouth and sore body. Liquid drops ran down his face, he wasn't sure if it was blood, or if they were tears and it was just the red ceiling that gave it the wrong color. Whatever they were, they flowed down and mixed with the already massive pool of blood around him.

 

With a thick labored cough, he tried to roll onto his knees and elbows. Immediately, the pain was intense enough to make him regret every choice he had ever made in his life. The pain burned, screaming through his whole body from the countless bruises, cuts, and burns that covered it. It took more than a few moments of sitting there -- seething -- before he finally accomplished the moment task.

 

Then he tried standing up. More regrets. If the previous task had been trying to climb a shear wall with no gear, standing up felt like climbing Mount Everest with no hands. Somehow, through the constant threat of his legs giving out, and him somehow stumbling more than once just getting onto his feet, he managed to stand and began walking to his adversary.

 

Shakily, he approached. His footsteps were in no way centered, his right eye was permanently unfocused, double vision clouded his already weakened mind. He shook his head, only resulting in it spiking his headache.

 

He finally glanced down at the adversary, expecting to see a hairy, horn headed, glowing eyed Devil. He didn't. The person lying on the floor in front of him was~

 

...himself!?

 

The hands from the body he was in came into view from his peripheral vision. They were grey, with retractable claws; connected to them were a pair of hairy arms. Confused, he took a single glance of his face in a puddle beside him. The face of the Devil himself looked back. Not believing the sight, and his agonies being forgotten, he jerked back hard...

 

...and straight into the land of the waking; flying into an upright position in the chair he slept in. For a moment, all he could do breath before he calmed down. A drop of liquid fell onto his gloved hand as he eventually came to the expected conclusion.

 

"A dream," he muttered. "Just a bad dream."

 

He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of apaulment, and he scoffed at his realization. What did he expect? A dream of a pleasant day sitting in a lawn chair, listening to the children -- _the children he could never have by the way_ \-- playing in the yard, while the barbeque sizzled on the grill as his wife cooked it?

 

Yeah. Right.

 

The idea alone was enough to make him grit his teeth in disgust.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"Uh, what is this?"

 

That was the question Boris asked Oswald as the wolf was handed what almost looked like a bandana.

 

"It's a bandana," Oswald simply replied. Boris just stared at him flatly. Smart aleck.

 

"I can see that. Why are you giving me a bandana?" Boris was equally perplexed as he was annoyed. Oswald had called him down here because he said it was urgent. That he needed to give him something as soon as possible. What did a bandana have to do with it?

 

"Wear it around your neck, your arm, your leg; it doesn't matter. Just put it on somewhere and please keep it on." With that, Oswald stretched the bandana closer to Boris, encouraging him to take it. Glancing between it and Oswald, he finally took it and looked at it closer. On one side, the cloth was embroidered with Fantasia's crest; the other side though...

 

Boris took a moment to stare at the black symbol. To his eyes, it looked just like some random rune that the organization had been using. To his new 6th sense, it almost felt like the entrance to a tube, or an outlet of some kind. He didn't know what it was, but he could tell a function of it was to have something come through.

 

"What is this?" This time, Boris asked without any kind of annoyance. Now it was just pure confusion and vagueness.

 

"That rune is drawn in Bendy's blood."

 

Boris' attention snapped back to Oswald. He went on before Boris could say anything.

 

"You see, the power you have right now is not actually your own. Imagine your body like a magic battery. It contains the magic Bendy gave you when you were turned. But, since you still refuse to drink blood of any type, you will slowly grow weaker and weaker; until the lack of magic and energy finally kills you. Blood is the currency of the soul, without it the soul has no way of connecting to and maintaining your body. That bandana is directly connected to Bendy's own magic supply, it will supply you with just enough to keep you alive. You'll still grow weaker the more time goes on though."

 

Boris grimised. He wasn't sure what to say to all of that. He was no stranger to weakness, but would not drinking blood really cause more agony? It couldn't have been worse than what he had been through before right?

 

"You're an idiot," came a new voice; from... the wall?

 

Like water through a bag of sand, Bendy stepped right out of the wall and stood up straight. "You chose this." Bendy scolded. "On the night I turned you, you chose the dark. The only thing light should truly mean for you now is a slow and painful death."

 

Boris again was not sure how to feel about that either. This time though, at the back of his mind, he thought he noticed something odd. For a brief moment during that last fact, Bendy's smile had wavered just slightly. It almost was unnoticeable, Oswald could never have picked it up but Boris could. Did Bendy have some kind of secret negative experience with light? He shook his head and wrapped the bandana around his right bicep.

 

"Ah, hello Bendy," Oswald greeted as the demon in question approached the two. Oswald walked over to what looked like a briefcase on a nearby desk and unlocked it. "I'm glad you're here, I have something special I wanted to show you."

 

He then stepped back and let Bendy approach the case. With one hand, he opened the top of the case and looked inside. "Oh?" Bendy asked as he looked over the contents. "What's this?"

 

Boris blinked in surprise as Bendy withdrew a massive pistol. Bigger than Bendy's other one, goodness!

 

"Say hello to the Jekyll," Oswald introduced. "A 13mm Semi-Auto Anti-Monster Combat Pistol. She uses fully customly designed 13mm rounds. Far more powerful than the 454 Cassul rounds you're used to. She also ejects empty casings out the left side of the gun so she can be used in conjunction with Hyde. I hope you like duel wielding."

 

"Is the ammo hollow point or explosive?" Bendy asked as he looked over the gun's functionality.

 

"Explosive tips," Oswald confirmed.

 

"Magazine capacity?"

 

"27 rounds per magazine. The runes for them are already in place, and ready to be loaded."

 

Bendy took out one of the several magazines in the case and loaded it with a number of the new rounds. They went in cleanly, without difficulty or fiddling. The bullets and the magazine springs had all been precisionly designed, and more so made. Even the runes engraved into the magazines themselves were exact, and in places unlikely to be worn down through extended use.

 

Bendy smiled at the results of the inspection.

 

"It's perfect Oswald!" He praised as he turned to the rabbit. Oswald, beaming with pride, did a full on 90* bow.

 

"I'm ecstatic that you're happy with the results," he thanked. "When you asked for something a little bigger for the next time you took on Allsion Angel, I thought it would be the best answer."

 

Bendy nodded, he could definitely feel more confident for their next encounter. Boris by this point had walked over and admired the pistol himself, quietly complimenting Oswald's work as well.

 

"I have something for you too Boris."

 

Boris turned to Oswald as he leaned down and opened a massive travel case. It was sturdy, made of steal, was ribbed, and even had wheels on the bottom so it could be towed easier. Oswald grabbed the contents and heaved trying to pull it out; nothing budged. He tried again, but only pulled for a moment before he felt he was a hair away from throwing out his back. With a sigh and a sheepish smile, he motioned for Boris to approach.

 

Boris did so quietly, his eyes widening as the item came into view. It wasn't just a new infantry weapon, it looked more like the gun you'd put in a tank! "What is this?" Boris found himself asking.

 

"Howler II. A Bolt Action 13.2mm Anti-Monster Cannon! Her design at its base is a modified M1918 Tankgewehr. She fires modified 13.2mm Armor-Piercing ammunition with a hardened core, designed as a magnum to the original round. One main addition to the gun itself is that she uses 11 round striper clip magazines. She'll destroy all but the most heavily armored targets."

 

Boris stared at Oswald for a few moments. He had made him a cannon? A glorified scaled up variant of a WWI German rifle?

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"The situation is growing dire," Donald interrupted Mickey mid sentence. "These attacks are becoming more frequent and it's getting more difficult to convince everyone involved that nothing too serious is going on."

 

Mickey had called a number of influential personnel from across Toon Town, all of whom were in Fantasia, to discuss the recent spike in demonic activity. He had barely managed to get out a single word and people already were interrupting him.

 

"There are limits to the amount of information we can suppress you know," an anxious Xedo said from another spot on the table. Mickey was surprised, the fox was usually one of the calmest ones of the group. He was the head editor for the Toon Town Times. To ensure no one found out about events that were going on, most of the largest news companies in Toon Town had been shut down or were forced to merge with with the Times. Xedo freaking out only emphasized how bad the situation had gotten.

 

"I know, fellas," Mickey managed to get out, retaking control of the conversation. "And I understand your concerns. That is why I've brought you here. And to tell you that we now have our first major clue as to who's behind these attacks."

 

With that, Mickey reached into an envelope and withdrew an item. The table stared at it, blinking. It was a small black chip, a slit near the center that wasn't too far away from snapping it right in half. It was bent, it was lightly charred, and it was _small_.

 

"That's it?" Pete exclaimed from the other end of the table. "That's your first big clue?"

 

"Calm down Pete," Goofy said, trying to keep the conversation civil. It seemed to work, as Pete huffed but said nothing. Goofy turned back to Mickey and asked: "What is that thing, Mic?"

 

"We've found traces of these chips in each of the demons that have attacked our territory. By what we can tell, they use magic to transmit information about the demon's physical, mental, and magical status. Perhaps more."

 

Now the table was dead silent as Mickey went on.

 

"We only managed to recover this one mostly intact, because it had been forced out of the demon's spine by one of Allison Angel's bayonets. Hence, the damage to it."

 

Mickey only paused to unwrap a part of a sausage before he bit into the end. "As to who the information is being sent to," he swallowed and took out a series of photos, "we blew up some of the details we found and put it to film. One thing of interest we found was this."

 

Mickey then pointed to a blown up photo in his hand. It took a moment until everyone rendered what they saw.

 

"ACME?" Xedo muttered, as confused as everyone else.

 

"Please, how could ACME be behind this? They just make props and gags nowadays," Pete said, still doubting the evidence. "Their number 1 best seller for the last year have been Hand Buzzers. Why would they make these, chips?"

 

"Remember, ACME stands for A Company that Makes Everything. Prior to and during the war, they _were_ an arms manufacturer. They're famous for inventing revolutionary technology. It's possible they have a shadow branch of the company still making underground military technology and transactions."

 

"Gwarsh Mic. Are you sure?" Goofy asked. "Weren't they supposed to stop all weapon production?"

 

"That was part of the treaty they signed with the Warnerburg City Government," Mickey commented as he folded his hands, "along with handing over whatever military stock they had on a specific date. Most of that stock they sold at extremely low prices before the date though, local militias and mercenaries taking the bulk of it. Morally and legally gray, but not enough to sue or make arrests. Everyone wanted the war to end anyway, so no one probably would have anyway. However, the tooling for a number of their weapons went missing. ACME claims that most of it was destroyed and they lost the majority of their records."

 

"Yeah, 'cause that doesn't raise suspicion," Donald muttered from his seat.

 

"Indeed. These events, alongside the branding on the chips we found, have led us to conclude that a branch of ACME is behind all of this."

 

Those present at the table looked at each other before turning back to Mickey.

 

"What're we gonna do?" Goofy asked.

 

"That Goofy, is why I asked you all~"

 

The lights suddenly flickered, then went out. Going dark. Taken by surprise, the entire table stood up looking to the ceiling and each other as they started to ask what was going on. Hardly a moment later, the emergency lights turned on above them. They only provided the building with half the regular lighting, if that. Enough for everyone to see around them, but not much more. With the expectancy came fear, and the lights with their older luminescent orange didn’t help. It didn't need to be said at this point.

 

Something was very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- You know I'm here Ash? Well wha'dya know, guess my mouth has gotten me into trouble again. All well, fun while it lasted. Also, Ash, if you're tired you should go to your bed, y'know, spend some time alone. ; )
> 
> G'night everybody!--


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the good news is that I now know who's been leaving notes. It's Yakko. Yes, THAT Yakko.  
> It appears that the Warners from THIS story have begun interacting with the story before they are even introduced...  
> Well, the good news is that I've managed to contain them to this story, but I may have done a few things they REALLY don't like in order to do so.  
> In related news, I have the extras released. As of April 2nd, it only has some extra information on some of the weapons Fantasia uses. Don't worry, I do plan to add more.  
> Thank you for the support. If I do something you don't like, let me know so I can improve.  
> Oh, one more thing; Congagulations to TAP and The Inky Mystery for reaching 100 chapters!

 

"Remind me again why we're going after Fantasia first?"

 

Cuphead let out a breath of cigarette smoke as the question was asked yet again. Both of them were in their thirties and his brother was still as clueless as ever. "Practically all of their leadership is here right now," he explained. "We take them out, we cut off Fantasia's head. Then all we have to worry about is the JDS. With half the country no longer protected, we can use the chaos to stretch the JDS thin and take them out before they know what's going on."

 

Mugman slipped his hands into his coat pockets. He looked down at the ground in front of him and grimaced. More than once he glanced behind them as they walked up the road leading to the castle. He motioned behind them with his head. "Do we really need _him_ for this?"

 

Cuphead took another breath through his cigarette. "Unfortunately," he sighed and nodded; feeling the same way as his brother did. "We're strong, but we need someone to distract their security force while we take out their trump card. Hat's the only demon we _could_ talk to and not immediately get into a fight with. I'd say we're lucky we could get that far in such short notice."

 

He tried to sound confident, like this was a good idea; but he knew it wasn't. In fact, it was everything but. Hat was basically everything you would expect from a prewar surface demon. He was willing to do as asked, so long as doing so benefited him. The moment it didn't, he would stop giving whatever assistance he had been. His loyalties lied with no one but himself and his own interests.

 

A part of Cuphead could respect that; but not by very much. All that Cuphead had done was to keep Mugman and him alive, not to satisfy some kind of malicious greed. They got the chance to get out of the devil's grasp, so they took the opportunity. When they encountered a demon that claimed to want to bring down the devil, they were sceptical at first. Hat had been planing things like that for years; but this, as it turned out, was different. He had created a new kind of magic, a new power no one had ever seen before.

 

Cuphead didn't fully get how it worked, but he had managed to pick up a bit. As he understood it, the two things every person has when they are alive are their soul and their shadow. Through various means of magic, both of these can be manipulated to certain degrees. This demon had the idea to think of them both as a liquid, as pure energy; wondering if the shadow and soul could be separated from the body, and then fused together outside with magic.

 

Searchers ended up becoming the final result.

 

Cuphead thought he heard that the demon had gotten the idea from some sickness he had caught; but didn't know the specifics. All cuphead knew was that it was a chance to burn his debt, his brothers, and possibly the whole of Inkwell Isle's. So, he and Mugman made an effort to be 'busy with a contract job' when the attack began.

 

It seemed to go well at first. The demon burned the debts, and cut down almost all the wealth the devil had in his grasp. But then, after the devil's defeat, that demon refused to take power. Rejected the position to become the next devil himself. Disappeared into the surface world leaving open a power vacuum that would plunge Hell into a civil war. For Cuphead, this wasn't too bad, at first. He and Mugs had returned to Inkwell, and in an attempt to right their wrongs, they vowed to keep the Isle safe from those kinds of threats. The problem is, the organizations made to hunt down the monsters were instilling too much fear in some demons.

 

There were dozens of times he and his brother had to stop demons at the port before they got into the city. Most of them had been trying to find a quiet town or secluded environment to gain their power and an army. They had managed to keep it quiet for the most part, and in comparison to the time and casualties the other organizations used to stop their own attacks, he and his brother were quite possibly the most efficient anti-monster force on the planet. Well, with _that night_ being an exception.

 

Almost all of the demons had gone to Inkwell out of fear of the organizations. Without them, the Isle would be just an isolated piece of land in the middle of the ocean. The brothers thought that if they could destroy one -- or weaken both -- of the organizations, they'd be able to live in peace. Alone, but safe.

 

Sure, the organizations were great at killing the demons; but they were terrible at stopping them from being a threat in the first place. As in, they only stopped them _after_ the damage had been done. _After_ dozens were dead. _After_ the island was so badly ruined economically businesses were already starting to close from being unable to obtain credit or cash.

 

Sure, these organizations had finished off those demons; but still only _after a full quarter_ of the Isle's population was dead. Maybe they were trying to help, but both of the organizations were very much guilty in the eyes of the two brothers. Fantasia and the JDS were loud, sloppy, their agents didn't even trying to hide the attack. They left a mess that still wasn't cleaned up. And to say the Organisations' reaction times were slow in the eyes of two brothers was an understatement as well; to say that the two were really cussing ticked from it was more-so.

 

"So, who in Fantasia are we hunting anyway?" Mugman asked as the dark castle came into view. Cuphead pulled out the pamphlet he had been given and looked it over again. For every leading member of the organization, there was a picture, a name, and a short biography about them.

 

"Mickey Disney Fantasia Mouse; 'cause that's not a mouth full," he muttered. Ahem. "Head of the organization, and the youngest son of Walter Fantasia Disney. Not very experienced, but apparently has a lot of leadership potential. Good with a sword."

 

"If he's the younger son, how did he inherit his leader status?" Mugman asked, going off of his knowledge of royalty and big business. Then again, he wasn't sure if that all applied here. They did live in a castle though...?

 

"It doesn't say," Cuphead simply responded, "and I doubt it's important to us anyway."

 

"Next up, we have Oswald Disney Fantasia Rabbit. The oldest son of Walter Fantasia Disney. The butler, assistant, and secretary to the estate. Says he's good with razor wire; I guess that means he likes to set up traps. We'll have to be careful of where we step."

 

"The older son became a butler huh? Hmm." Mugman brought a hand up to his chin, and a smile grew on his face.

 

"Don't even think about it," Cuphead interjected, shooting down the idea. Mugman's face lowered in disappointment.

 

"Next up is a guy named Pete. The Toon Town chief of Police. Apparently got his rank when the last schmuck was exposed for corruption, then the war broke out and most of the police were sent over to fight. This guy became an officer when he couldn't become a soldier, and somehow got the position of chief of police in under 4 years."

 

"Golly," Mugman muttered.

 

"Yeah. Here's one named Goofy. He's in charge of acquiring vehicles, supplies, materials for the ammunition Fantasia uses." Cuphead turned the pamphlet over. "Another guy named Donald is from the Navy. And there's a fox named Xedo, head of the Toon Town Times."

 

"Quite a list huh?" Mugman commented as the gate to the castle came into view.

 

"Yeah," his brother said as he put the pamphlet away and took another breath of his cigarette. "Anyway, time to get to work."

 

There were two guards at the entrance, both held Thompson M1s with 30 round magazines. They wore the standard fatigue outfits the other guards on the premises wore. One was standing in the guard box, the other was in front of the gate itself. As the two Cup brothers approached, the guard at the gate stepped forward.

 

"Hey, you two," he said as he stretched out a hand, ordering them to stop. They complied, for now. "I'm afraid you gentlemen will have to leave, we're not taking visitors."

 

The two brothers glanced at each other with the same look. The guard's fact didn't really matter to them; what's one more broken law on their conscience? Mugman smiled and still spoke anyway. "Hiya; we're from the east coast. We're touring famous manors across the country." Mugman glanced behind the two guards, looking around curiously.

 

The two brothers were curious if these were the only guards Fantasia had at the front gate. This area and the drive way up weren't very clear. It was like the road was sparsely used, and so nature had partly taken over the area. Cuphead wondered if any extra guards were hiding among the bushes.

 

Cuphead glanced between the guards and the forest. No. No one would be guarding from behind a tree, even someplace like this. The only reason any guard or security force would do something like that is if they wanted to ambush oncomers who were seen as a threat. For this though, they would need to plan according to who was coming, what weapons they had, and when exactly they were coming. Three things that Cuphead _knew_ Fantasia didn't have.

 

Were these two really the only guards Fantasia had at their front gate? Cuphead smiled, and stepped forward.

 

"This castle isn't open to the public?" He asked, pretending to be a genuine tourist, with innocent intent.

 

"This is private property," the guard shot back. Neither of the brothers were fazed. "Please leave at once."

 

The brothers glanced at each other.

 

"Ok."

"Alright."

 

...they said simultaneously. They looked at eachother again, nodded once, then raised their right arms; instinctively shaping their fingers into the general shape of a gun.

 

_***Bang*** _

_***Bang*** _

 

Two blue shots streaked through the air, both hitting their marks dead on. One guard fell to the ground, the other slumped over in the guard box and slid to the floor.

 

Head shots.

 

Lines of white smoke trailed from the tips of their fingers; Mugman put it up to his lips and blew the smoke away, like he were in some western dime novel. Cuphead meanwhile reached up and threw his used cigarete to the ground, stomping on the bud to extinguish it. Almost immediately he reached into his pocket, withdrew another one, and pinned it between his lips.

 

"Is this really all they had?" Mugman asked as Cuphead lit the fresh cigarette with his finger tip. He let in -- then out -- a breath of the toxic smoke with a sigh.

 

"I'm not surprised," Cuphead muttered. "With how sloppy of a job these schmucks keep doing, it's no big shock that they aren't better prepared." Another breath. "They're amateurs."

 

They raised their fingers again, each powering a charge round. A yellow glow building until it maxed and they released it upon the gate. The resulting explosion blew the massive steal door open, almost off its massive hinges. The center of the gate where the lock used to be become horribly off set and dented inward.

 

From behind the cups, there was the quiet rumble of a city bus making its way up the path. The two brothers looked at each other with the same tired and downcast expression as they heard it. It was clear that neither of them liked this. Without waiting for the vehicle to reach the gate, they made their way inside; looking for an open window along the side of the castle.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

Mickey spun the rotary phone dial as he called the closest to the front door. He put the receiver to his head and waited for the other end to be picked up.

 

"Front office, report. What's going on?"

 

_"I-I don't know! T-There was some kind of explosion, and the gate was blown in! I~ Wait; something's coming in, I looks like a city bus?"_

 

A city bus? Why a city bus? If it was some organized military force, like the JDS, wouldn't they be using something more militaristic?

 

_"W-Wait! It's~ Oh my God! It's~"_

 

"What's going on!? What is it!?"

 

_"It's Searchers! The enemy are Searchers!"_

 

Mickey's eyes widened. "Did you say...  Searchers?"

 

His voice was just loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. The occupants stared at Mickey with muted horror. Mickey himself could only stare back with the same expression. Searchers? Here? Mickey quickly snapped out of his surprise and gave out his orders.

 

"Barricade the doors, and get as much security as you can to that location!" The only replies were screams of terror and pain, contrasted by moans and the sounds of tearing flesh.

 

"What's going on!?" Mickey demanded through the receiver. "Answer me!"

 

Then suddenly, it all went quiet. The screams, the moans, they all disappeared. Then Mickey heard footsteps as someone walked toward the phone on the other line.  The steps stopped, and a dark voice spoke.

 

 _"Hello?"_ the voice started.

 

"Who is this and what have you done with my men?" Mickey demanded, eyes glaring at the phone body as if it was somehow responsible.

 

 _"My my!"_ Came the immediate reply, with an accompanying laugh. _"No patience with this one. Fine then. My name is Black Hat, and I'm here to kill you. If I was in your place, I'd recommend putting a bullet between your eyes, or at least praying to whatever inept god you worship. I'll be up there in a moment. Ta ta!"_

 

Mickey then received a monotone beep as the otherside was hung up. Mickey just sat for a moment, eye twitching; almost not recognizing the terrified face of those sitting at the table with him. Snapping out of it, Mickey immediately dialed the number 1 1 and waited for him to pick up.

 

"Oswald?" Mickey asked as the other end answered.

 

 _"I hear you Mic; I've been listening in on the conversation and am up to speed."_ Mickey smiled in partial relief. He really loved his brother right now. _"The bad news -- by what I can tell -- is that the power and phone lines have been cut, so I wouldn't count on reinforcements arriving for 5 hours, or maybe 6."_

 

"How do you think we should deal with the situation?"

 

_"I think me, Bendy, and the pup should split into two teams. The pup and I will make our way to you in the meeting room, while Bendy should stay down here in the basement; just in case this Black Hat also sends someone after him."_

 

"Alright," Mickey affirmed, the signal helping calm the others in the room with him. "But how will you get up here? The first two floors are probably crawling with Searchers."

 

_"Remember back in 1944, when Muntz killed our father and tried to take over the family; how did you evade him?"_

 

Mickey blinked, the smiled. "The air vents! Of course!"

 

 _"Exactly."_ Oswald afferemed. _"As I said, me and the pup will make our way up to you; stay put and barricade the room until we arrive."_

 

"Understood," Mickey replied, happy to have a game plan.

 

Down in the basement, Oswald looked over to Bendy and the pup as they got their weapons loaded, getting ready for the fight at hand.

 

"The rookie and the veteran," he commented. "By my math that should make at least one competent soldier."

 

Boris blinked. Veteran? Did that mean Oswald had fought in the war? Or was that a reference to him being with Fantasia from the beginning? The rabbit in question began to put the phone down when Mickey cut in one more time.

 

 _"Oswald,"_ he said, causing the rabbit to pause. _"These people are killing my men, make sure not a single one leaves the castle alive."_

 

Boris saw Oswald blink in the abruptness of the command, then he did something that gave the werewolf pause.

 

He smiled.

 

It wasn't his trademark smug and cocky smirk, or even a smile of confidence. It was big, it was toothed, it was almost psychotic; and right now it terrified the werewolf more than the Searchers above them did. Then Oswald responded with a tone that matched the smile.

 

"Yes sir!"

 

It sent a shiver down Boris' spine; he swore Oswald's eyes had flashed as he hung up the phone. Bendy then in turn reacted to all this in a way Boris also didn't expect.

 

"Oh?" was the first thing out of the demon's mouth. His face held a look of curiosity and excitement, like a child when they find that the big present under the Christmas tree has their name on the tag. Then the demon added to Boris' feeling of confusion even more at what he said next. "Do my eyes deceive me? Or does Oswald Van Helsing stand before my presence?"

 

Who~ wait... -What?!

 

Oswald's smile increased in size and his eyes in intensity. Wordlessly, he walked over to a locker built into the wall; and with a quick spin of the combination, excitedly opened it.

 

At this point Boris just decided to roll with what was going on as Oswald took off his dress jacket, letting it casually fall to the ground beside him. From the locker he withdrew a large overcoat. With strong and dramatic movement, he pulled the jacket on over his shoulders and tugged the collar to a preferred position on his neck.

 

With that done, he retrieved and put on a pair of fingerless gloves; tugging them tight around his wrists. After that, he put his fingers to his palms, and cracked his knuckles, one at a time. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms, stiff in comparison to where he needed them to be.

 

"It's been a while since I've stretched these muscles," he commented as he cracked his back. "But I should still be combat ready. Come along wolf pup."

 

With that, he grabbed a flashlight out of the locker and walked over to a large vent in the wall. The opening was loose, and easy to pry off. He clicked the flashlight on, and motioned for Boris to follow him as he crawled into the vent.

 

Boris glanced at Bendy as the demon walked out the door and headed down the hall to a more desirable location. He blinked once, glanced at the door again, and then followed Oswald as the latter called to him.

 

This day just kept getting better and better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. This chapter is really short, and it's been a while since my last update...  
> All well, I'm tired right now; it's been wild here in this house of mine. Haven't had much time to sit at the keyboard and write. Heck, when I started writing this chapter most of the section with Cuphead and Mugman wasn't even part of my plan; it just sort of wrote itself. However, I think it will be a fun 'Easter Egg' for those that get the reference.  
> The good news is that I know exactly how the next chapter will go, so it should be easy to write.  
> Happy Easter everyone!

Cuphead and Mugman strolled down the corridor; focused, yet calm and relaxed, hands in their coat pockets as they walked. Their gazes remained on the various pieces of paraphernalia that lined the walls. This  castle of theirs was eccentrically designed. Old paintings, bronze shields, stained glass windows, even the occasional statue. All telling a story of what looked like a family bloodline.

 

No, that wasn't right. Each side of the hallway was telling its own story. There wasn't one family; there were two. Two families. No ordinary families either.

 

Cuphead actually began to raise his brow as he and his brother took note of them. In each of the paintings was a mouse, or a rabbit. Without fail. Always one of them, sometimes both. Sometimes standing beside each other, sometimes fighting each other. There was something off, almost disturbing about it all. The paintings were from various centuries, throughout much of history. You could tell by the state of the paintings and the cloths the painted wore. Yet in all these details there were so few generations present, with the same characters appearing again and again as if a number of them had lived for hundreds of years.

 

This is how the decor went, up until the end of the hall. Hanging on the end of the wall were two massive portraits side by side. These ones were more recent, a quick glance at the inscription at the bottom dated the paintings back to the early 1900s. Probably the most recent, in fact. The two cup brothers stopped in front of them as they stared at the paintings, or more who was on them.

 

The same man was in both portraits, wearing nearly the same clothes; but in each of the portraits was a different woman. One was a rabbit, the other was a mouse. In the womens' arms were two infants, one each; staring at whomever had been painting these with big and curious eyes. Again, one a rabbit, the other a mouse. The cup brothers glanced at each other, could those two really be-?

 

_Zzziiipppp_

 

Without warning, a dozen arrows shot out from each wall; shrieking parallel to each other; dead on their targets. The cup brothers had little time to react. Silver tips pierced fabric, and there was a sudden dash of smoke right before the coats were nailed to the wall.

 

The four guards that were hiding finally came out to see the targets; expecting to see two cup people pinned and impaled. For a second, it almost appeared to be the case. Less than a second later they realized how wrong that assessment was.

 

The arrows hadn't pinned any living being to the wall, just the long coats the strange cup people had been wearing. Two of the guards glanced at each other, and had no time to react as blue bullets impacted the back of their heads. As their comrades fell to the ground, the other two guards immediately turned to the origin of the bullets; ready to fire a burst from their Thomsons.

 

There was another burst of smoke, and suddenly the cup brothers were behind the guards. Another two shots, two more flawless executions.

 

After these swift assassinations, with the bodies falling to the floor, the two brothers looked back at their coats. They were pinned like a wanted poster, or some other cussing metaphoric nonsense they weren't even going to try to think about.

 

"That was my favorite coat," Mugman slouched. He sighed in regret and disappointment. "All well, I guess that's what we get for wearing them so loose."

 

Cuphead sighed, yet again. Late thirties and his brother still acted like a child.

 

"Hey, what's this?"

 

Cuphead looked back up to his brother as he grabbed one of the side borders of the left portrait. With a high pitched squeak, the painting opened like a swing door to reveal a hidden staircase. Cuphead raised an eyebrow; so this is what the trap was here for?

 

The stairway was incredibly old, made of the same stone that was used when the castle had first been built. The stones were cracked and chipped in different areas, age and use having worn them down.

 

"Five bucks that's where Bendy is?" Mugman asked as Cuphead walked to the entrance.

 

"Most likely," he responded as he headed down; using his fingertip to light the darkened hallway as the two descended. Cuphead let a smirk come to his face.

 

"Let's see what you got, Ink Demon."

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"All right," Mickey said as an anxious finger tapped the table. "Oswald and the pup should be here any moment now."

 

There was the sound of a chair groaning, and Mickey looked across the table to see Pete standing up.

 

"Let the record show, I blame you for this Mickey!" he declared as he pointed an accusing finger at the mouse. "You got us all in one place in the middle of the day and didn't even think about increasing security! I will hold you solely responsible for this!"

 

"Come on Pete," Goofy said as he stood himself. "This isn't the time for that! We're all in this together right now."

 

Mickey smiled. Goofy might not be the smartest, but he still had a heart of gold. The mouse himself stood to give a simple reply to Pete.

 

"All the best guards belong to the night watch, as it's the night when demons are most likely to attack. Who's ever attacking knows us, they knew what order of events and what time would lead to the most devastating attack; where to hit us, and when. Not to mention this was a secret meeting, and you all know how vital it is to keep quiet about it all."

 

"Is there a point, Mic?" Donald said as he crossed his wings. Mickey simply folded his hands, and put them up to his mouth; giving himself a last minute debate before he took his next action.

 

He stood up, and opened a chest behind his chair at the end of the table. From it, he retrieved a small wooden crate and placed it in the center of the table. The markings and numbers painted on it indicated it as a military crate. Mickey opened up the top of the crate and withdrew a number of loaded pistols. Wordlessly, he began to pass them around the table to those present until everyone was armed.

 

"Judging by how much they knew, I'm wondering if someone in this room is a traitor."

 

The room grew silent again. The people inside staring at the mouse as he gazed back at them. Then they started glancing at each other, quiet suspicion gathering around them.

 

"I can't test it right now. What I can say though is that I've been having some suspicions for a while."

 

_Clank_

_Bang_

 

Mickey was suddenly interrupted as a ceiling ventilation cover fell to the ground. Everyone suddenly looked up at the vent as a rabbit and a wolf fell out and landed on the floor. Boris used his stronger legs to absorb the fall, almost falling over. Oswald meanwhile swung from the lip of the vent and slid partway down the wall; landing on his feet gracefully.

 

"Oswald!" Mickey smiled as his half brother approached. "Good to see the two of you made it."

 

"Of course Mick," Oswald said as he and Boris approached the mouse. Oswald reached into his pocket and offered a sausage to his half brother. Mickey gratefully took it and bit into one end.

 

"Sitrep," he began, "communications are still down, the first two floors are over-run with Searchers, our men have already taken several casualties by what few reports I've been able to get, and the enemy is on the way here."

 

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Oswald said with a nod.

 

"Be straight with me Oswald," Mickey asked as he leaned forward, a dead serious expression plastered on his face. "Are we done for?"

 

Oswald's smile grew in response, and he almost laughed. "Hardly!" he declared, not a single shred of doubt in his voice or body. "Compared to the missions I went on in Warnerburg, this almost doesn't qualify as a crisis!"

 

Mickey returned a smile, glad that his brother believed they could win. "What do you plan to do?" he asked.

 

"Simple, I shall do what the Butler always does: I'll tidy up this mess."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like these chapters are getting too short, and that got me wondering. Should I keep making the chapters like this? Shorter, but more frequent? Or should I do longer, but with a bigger waiting period?  
> Some more conflict, some more mystery; some questions answered, and some answers generate more questions! :D  
> Also, one thing to note: I really don't edit my chapters that much before I publish them, so I usually go back and edit or add some more things; just some general improvements. Heck, only 2 days after publishing this chapter, and already I've edited the chapter thrice during that time!

Black Hat walked down the hall with a smile; dozens of Searchers behind him, following step for step. A thick wet mass of movement that left a lake of black in their wake. The army lumberd toward the target; a door at the end of the long hallway.

 

"Come on out!" Black Hat mocked. "I just wanna have a chat; shall we have some fun before I put you in your graves?"

 

At the end of the hall, the door to the conference room opened and out stepped a black and white toon. He wore what looked like a tuxedo, or some variant of the dress. Then he stepped forward between the emergency lights, the absence of illumination concealing his face; with the exception of a glare in his monical. _Bold, but rather stupid._ Black Hat stopped walking and raised his hand to command the Searchers behind him to shoot the toon, and put it out of its misery.

 

Suddenly, lengths of razor wire materialized from where the toon had walked. Like some monstrous cross between crossbow bolts and spider webs; they shreaked through the air, rushing past the demon before they tore into over a half dozen Searchers. The lengths ripped through the inky abominations, splashing their remains over the walls and ceiling; and Black Hat realized to his horror that the small blades in the razor wire were lined with consecrated silver.

 

"Oh? I missed? My apologies, that was meant for your head," came a voice from the void; before the toon stepped back into the light, and introduced himself.

 

"Hello there, my name is Oswald Disney Fantasia Rabbit, grandson of Oswald van Helsing, and a specialist in the modern art of monster hunting. I'm also the Secretary to the Fantasia organization, and Butler to Dark Beauty Castle. I answer the door, I clean up the estate, and I take out the trash; including unwanted intruders like yourself," the rabbit said this with an unbreakable grin; as if there was no contest or argument over the fact that he would win the fight with any appoint.

 

"I highly recommend you put a bullet between your eyes," the rabbit went on. "Or at least pray to whatever inept god you worship."

 

The demon blinked, his face and body morphing with rage. This toon honestly thought he was a threat to the likes of Black Hat! He even antied his own words! How stupid one could be. A demon like him wasn't one to so easily fall to such a creature. At the same time, Black Hat had to admit this rabbit was obviously no joke. Someone who could stare him down like this clearly had experience in the field. Better play it safe for now.

 

With a snap of his fingers, he commanded the armored Searchers to step up in front of him. It didn't matter how strong you were, razor wire couldn't cut through multiple half inch steel armor pieces. He crouched down, hiding behind the wall of moving steel as it lumbered toward the room.

 

Black Hat could still see the rabbit through the gaps in the line. He wasn't moving. His cocky grin had been replaced with a raised eyebrow. Then, slowly, the smile returned. He stepped off to one side of the hallway and motioned to someone at the end of the hall.

 

"Wolf Pup, if you would," he called out to the young agent.

 

"Right!" cane the echoed reply from the door. Following after it came a gunshot from Howler II. The shot itself disturbed the atmosphere and tore it like a cheap cloth. The high velocity bullet raced down the hallway before it pierced the steel armor of the first Searcher. Not only did it go through the Searcher, but through three rows of them.

 

At the end of the hallway, Boris cocked the massive action and chambered a new round. A quick pull of the trigger and he sent it down range. Another three rows fell. With a feel for the new rifle improving, he began to pick up the pace; increasing his rate of fire with every pull of the trigger. Right before the final row fell, Black Hat yelled at the other Searchers to open fire on the closer rabbit.

 

Oswald in turn -- with the flick of a wrist -- threw a spread of smoke pellets to the ground. A half dozen pops, and a smoke screen, followed. Immediately after, bullets of all kinds whizzed through the hall at the assumed location of the rabbit. The smoke did its job well, and the Searchers fired blindly into it; hoping to hit something without success.

 

"You know," Oswald called from the smoke, avoiding all the bullets whizzing around him. "Searchers on paper are quite a formidable force aren't they. Perfectly obedient, influential enough to operate a firearm, and will never stop hunting a target unless ordered to. However..."

 

The wires returned, cutting down the Searchers in groups. Bullets from the guns they fired blanketing the halls along with the Searchers' remains. "...when you have the proper tools, you find they are far from indestructible!"

 

As the final groups of Searchers fell apart, Black Hat changed tactics, and he himself charged into the smoke. He tackled the surprised rabbit before he could counter the sudden move. Oswald was pushed onto his back, the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs. He could only watch as Black Hat readied a fist that could probably crack his skull.

 

Before Oswald could brace, fated turned and it was Black Hat that found a fist meeting his face. The rabbit blinked as he realized the fist was Boris'. Black Hat stumbled back, stunned as the silver lined glove made impact with his face. Then, immediately after, Boris was behind Black Hat. The wolf tackled the demon; his left hand holding one of Black Hat's behind his back.

 

With his right hand, he put the demon into a head-lock; holding him firmly.

 

"I've got him!" Boris yelled to Oswald, the rabbit still on the ground. "Are you alright?"

 

"I'm fine," he replied, slowly standing up. He stood slouched for a moment, before he put a hand on his spine and pushed. A series of cracks sounded off as he stood up. "I guess I'm more rusty than I thought. It's been years since I've been in the field. Heck, I'm kinda surprised these old wires are still holding up."

 

He then turned to Boris, still holding Black Hat in a deadlock. Oswald raised an eyebrow. "That's an impressive hold," he complimented. "Where did you learn it?"

 

"Well, I _was_ a Police Officer," Boris said, tightening his grip on the demon a bit more.

 

"Touche."

 

"I don't take kindly to being held against my will."

 

Boris and Oswald looked down at the demon as be barked his complaints.

 

"Now let me go before I-" Oswald stomped on the demon's hand, too ticked off to let him finish.

 

"And you will tell me why are you here," he commanded through gritted teeth; a look in his eye so fierce you could have confused him for a fallen angel. Black Hat growled, but reluctantly complied.

 

"The plan was simple, to locate you and the Mouse."

 

"The plan?" Oswald muttered suspiciously. The demon had said 'the plan', not 'my plan'. While suttle, it was still an important detail. It reduced the credit associated to Black Hat himself, giving said credit to someone else. A demon would never do this if it truly was their plan; even if the plan had gone awry.

 

"So someone else put you up to this; who was it? Who are you taking orders from?"

 

That got Black Hat to laugh. "You really do work fast! You're just as good as they said!" So whoever it was had come in contact with Oswald before, and by the sound of it was very familiar with his work. But that didn't answer who it was.

 

"Would like to stick around and chat, but I've got work to do." With that, the demon used the back of his head to headbutt Boris' muzzle, disorientating him. The demon used that to pry himself free, stand up, and roundhouse kick Boris in the stomach. The helpless wolf was sent flying down a perpendicular hallway, smashing into a glass case that hung at the end. Shattered glass, and the contents of the case, fell with the wolf onto the floor.

 

The wolf himself went limp, unable to move; the impact making him black out. So quickly did it happen, Oswald found he only had enough time to watch before the demon stood back up, and promptly somersaulted right over him. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was off; charging down the hall and straight to the conference room.

 

Responding as quickly as he could, Oswald catapulted his wires after the demon. The strands of barbed tape barely had enough distance to catch up, and were only able to wrap around the demon's arm and dig into it. They tensed as their slack immediately ran out, the strain rising. With the strength and speed this demon was running, something had to give.

 

Almost like the rapid pops of a machine gun, the old wires Oswald was using snapped.

 

The unexpected off set of not being pulled by the demon caused Oswald to shoot back; sliding across the ground for nearly half the hall length. Black Hat meanwhile charged to the conference room like he was on a rampage again. He could almost smell the fear from the occupants; how delicious it would taste! Reaching the doors, he slammed them open; expecting to see a table of terrified faces.

 

Instead, he found a table of straight faces; and toons armed with pistols.

 

"Cuss-" _*Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang* *Bang*_

 

A wave of pistol fire tore through him, forcing him back out the door; bleeding. Barely a moment later, Mickey Mouse stood in the doorway; pistol in hand, and rather ticked off. Black Hat then heard an audible click behind him. When he turned, he found an equally ticked off rabbit; standing there with an ancient revolver, aiming it at his head. Black Hat's eyes narrowed slightly, quietly ordering the reserves hiding in the shadows.

 

Without warning, over a dozen Searchers appeared in the hallway behind Oswald. The rabbit looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened. Hadn't he killed all of the Searchers? No, these ones were different. They were still wearing clothing, and not just any. They were wearing the standard fatigues of the Fantasia Organization.

 

Oh God. Black Hat had turned their own men against them. Damn it!

 

The nearest Searcher full on lunged at the rabbit. Oswald started to turn and shoot it, when it was suddenly interrupted. It was decapitated by the swing of an axe. The head and body hit the ground separately and splattered, already turned to ink. Oswald blinked in surprise at who it was.

 

"Boris?"

 

The werewolf stood defiantly, eyes glowing a light emerald; the axe he held in his hands glistening with the Searcher's ink. His eyebrows were locked in a fierce stance, his posture even more so. His clothes were stained from a mixture of his own blood and the dark substance that made the ghoulish creatures.

 

"I'll hold them off," was all he said, before he turned and went to work on the advancing Searchers. Swings of the axe, moans of the Searchers, and determined grunts from the werewolf were all he heard as they slipped into the shadows. Oswald blinked again, his surprise lasting only a moment. When it passed, he turned back to the demon and cocked the old revolver.

 

"On your knees," he commanded, not even even trying to beat around the bush anymore. Black Hat was now standing between two guns loaded with consecrated bullets. The demon glanced between the two who held them.

 

"Come on fellas; why don't we-" _*BANG*_

 

Oswald didn't even let the demon finish. He was furious, impatient, and both of the two half brothers wanted answers; NOW. "I said: On. Your. Knees."

 

Black Hat just laughed; despite the bullet hole in his chest he was still finding this funny enough to laugh. "How merciless," he said through his chuckles. "Did you pick that up in Warnerburg?"

 

Oswald's eye twitched, growing even more furious at the demon. He did not take kindly to being reminded of those days. Black Hat shook his head. "I come here to deliver a message, and this is the welcome I get?" he asked sarcastically.

 

"A message?" Mickey asked, just for a moment taken by surprise. A message? There was no way he could be serious about that.

 

"Yes," Black Hat nodded as he took off his top hat and reached inside it. Oswald noted he was wearing a bowler hat underneath. What was up with this obsessed of hats? Was he also wearing a wool cap underneath it? Out from the top hat, the demon retrieved a piece of paper and flicked it toward the rabbit. It landed nowhere near him.

 

"I can tell when I'm not wanted, so I'll just bid you adieu," Black Hat said with a bow; before he opened a portal beneath him and jumped in. "Ta ta!" _*Bang* *Bang*_

 

Both Mickey and Oswald fired at the spot he had been standing, the bullets impacting the floor as the portal closed, right on its tail. Just like that, the demon was gone; and so was the option to question him farther.

 

"Dammit!" Oswald swore as he lowered his gun. They had been so close! With an angered growl, he walked over to the paper to see what had been so important to cause all this madness. Assuming it wasn't some sick joke for kicks and giggles.

 

It wasn't.

 

Oswald opened the folded paper, and one look at the contents made him drop it and stumble back in a frenzy. He crawled away from it, his eyes holding a look of terror.

 

"Ozzy?" Mickey asked as he walked over to his brother. Oswald was in a mild panic, and would only glance at the paper in his shaken status. His whole body was twitching. Mickey could only stare for a moment. What could make Oswald act like this?

 

Mickey walked over the paper to find out. Hesitantly, he reached down and picked up the paper, opening it up and reading it. There were only three words written. Three words that made Mickey blink, and had made Oswald stumble away.

 

_Beware the Warners._

 

"Who are the Warners?" Mickey asked as he turned back to Oswald. "How do you know about them?"

 

"How do I know them?" Oswald twitched. "Simple. Father's last words to me were the details of their execution order. The mission that I was deployed to carry out, and the only one I failed."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took WAY too long. I am so sorry....  
> Well, the good news is that, I'm back! I'm happy to be able to write again!  
> Why don't we see how the Cup Brothers are doing, eh?

_Kaboom_

Cuphead blew the smoke off his finger tip, the Charge shot having done its job perfectly. That was one less door blocking their way. They hadn't run into anyone down here, despite how thoroughly they had been searching. Strangely, it was like the old dungeon was abandoned. Did Bendy somehow know who was after him? Was he afraid?

 

The room they had blasted open was dark, like a moonless night; they couldn't even see the floor twenty feet past the door. This was no ordinary kind of darkness, Cuphead knew. A demon had to have made it like this. Bendy had to be here.

 

"You know," Cuphead said as the two stepped into the dark room, "if you're trying to hide, you've done a cussing bad job at it."

 

"Why would I hide?" came a voice as the demon finally stepped into view. Cuphead stopped and blinked at the sight. The demon was sitting leisurely in a chair, a book in one hand and a martini in the other. He took a sip of the alcoholic glass, and set it on the table beside him.

 

"Don't confuse my patience for cowardice," Bendy said as he snapped the book shut, setting it down next to the drink. The border title visible: Felix and the Kingdom of Hollownest. He was into adventure? "Honestly, I was starting to get a little boord waiting for someone to show up."

 

Bendy then picked the drink back up, and stirred the contents before taking another sip; letting the rest of the drink pour down his throat. He then took the olive out of the glass and bit it off the toothpick, flicking the wooden utensil carelessly somewhere into the room. He sat the empty glass down and folded his hands into his lap, turning his attention to the two brothers. "Now, who are you, and why are you worth my time?"

 

The two brothers glanced at each other and stepped forward. Cuphead put a smile on his face and gave a light bow. "Not sure if you remember us or not," he said. "'Name's Cuphead, and this is my brother, Mugman. You met us eight or nine years ago at the end of the 1930s. Congratulations on beating the devil by the way, glad the old schmuck finally got what was coming to him."

 

Bendy pursed his lips, and the glow through his glasses darkened. He must have closed his eyes. "You sound vaguely familiar," he said, the glow returning. "Very well then. You have my attention."

 

The flat look of disinterest from the demon still didn't leave though. He didn't sigh, blink, move, or even yawn. The cup brothers glanced at each other again, not sure what to make of it. Mugman stepped up this time.

 

"They call you the Ink Demon. Beyond anything of both the world and of hell. A creature whose power radiates with an aura, that can cast shadows on darkness itself. We wanna know if any of that's true."

 

A small smirk finally came to Bendy's face. Somehow this small reaction almost made it harder to tell what he was thinking. "You've certainly done your homework. Tell me, do you honestly believe in any of that?" he finally said as his smile grew just a bit more.

 

Cuphead took a step forward.

 

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't," he said. "The first time we met, I'll admit you were rather intimidating. After a while though, I kinda started to admire you. We keep getting stronger the older we get, but there's a limit that we'll hit eventually. Unlike you who has no clear limit or ceiling."

 

Bendy's smile got just slightly wider, a half grin that was fast approaching his signature.

 

"The first true pioneer of unlimited power," Cuphead went on. "Really, no matter what we say, we're all just chasing after your shadow."

 

That made Bendy laugh.

 

"On top of being a pair of maroons, you're both idiotically foolish. Unlimited power, does not exist."

 

"Well, yeah, we know," Cuphead shrugged. "And early pioneers tend to die on their trips. So, when we walk out of here with your head on a stake everyone else will know it too."

 

Bendy sat his drink down for the last time on the table. He knew what was coming next. "So now you plan to kill me and, what; make your 'wildest dreams come true'?"

 

The brothers' only response was a dash forward, their fingers charging. At the same moment, Bendy drew Jeckel and Hyde; knocking over his glass in the process. The berrals of the duel pistols were pointed almost point blank at the brothers' faces. They did the same, their Charge shots almost ready. There was the sound of glass shattering as the knocked over glass hit the ground.

 

And like a starting pistol, it began.

 

There were four simultaneous shots that clapped together like lightning. The Charge rounds hit the demon's chest, exploding blood onto the chair he sat on. The pistols missed, the two Cup Brothers disappearing into a cloud of smoke. When they reappeared, they went sprawling onto their backs; they had moved just quickly enough to dodge the bullets, but not fast enough to land steadily on their feet. For a moment, there was silence.

 

Then; a single, quiet chuckle from the demon. Then another, and another as the Cup Brothers joined in the laughter. They had never been thrill seekers, daredevils, or anything of the sort. despite this, even they could admit that there was nothing that would make you feel alive, when you were almost dead.

 

With a spin, the two brothers stood back up and laid into Bendy with peashooter rounds. Most hit his body, while a few struck his neck, causing the demon's head to flop over to the side. By now, his signature smile had manifested itself.

 

He clapped the runes on the back of his hands together. They lit up, the pentagrams glowing red, with his eyes joining in with it. A dark magic surged through his body; his muscles morphing, expanding.

 

"Control Restriction Level Three, release."

 

Without another hint of delay, he snapped his pistols back up and their triggers were pulled. Again, and again, and again. The moving actions and bullets were nothing but blurs; the demon's reflexes heightened, shooting so fast it was more like he was dual wielding machine guns than a set of pistols.

 

Meanwhile, the Cupbros dashed around the room; hot blue bullets flying from their fingertips, contrasted by golden streaks from Bendy's consecrated rounds flying back and forth. Despite the demon's sudden increase in speed and stamina, not a single one of the bullets he fired made contact with the brothers. It wasn't long before the guns in the demon's hands clicked and fell silent, their magazines empty, their ammunition spent.

 

The two brothers heard some crumbling behind them, and paused for a moment to turn and look at the cause. Their eyes widened. Almost all of the back wall behind them had been destroyed, reduced to rubble and powder. Disbelief crawled onto their faces. Those walls had been made of solid stone! Stone that was nearly a foot thick!

 

"A couple of pistols... did _that_?" Cuphead muttered, a bead of sweat running down the back of his head.

 

"Holy cow," Mugman added just as shocked. _That_ was the effect of what had been shooting at them? What the hell? Who were these people? What kind of weapons did they have in their arsenal?

 

"You're reflexes are amazing!" Bendy suddenly complimented from across the room, snapping their attention back to the demon. Did he sound almost excited by it? The two brothers narrowed their eyes again.

 

"I told you," Cuphead said. "We're nothing like anything you've faced before. We've been killing schmucks like you for the past 10 years."

 

"And we're not afraid of you," Mugman chimed in. "We've done dirty work for the devil before, and you're nothing like him."

 

Bendy's smile somehow got bigger. His eyes got a look of excitement that insanely made him look... giddy?

 

"Dosens you say?" he said, reloading his pistols in the process. The runes on his gloves flashed red again. "Shall we see then how many I'm worth?"

 

"Control Restriction Level Two, release."

 

When he said that, the shadows in the room somehow grew darker. Like the difference between an evening overcast and a moonless night. With the change in intensity the shadows also started to shift, dance, contort, and bend. The shadows had literally come back to life, and without warning they rushed the two brothers.

 

They split up, dashing to opposite sides of the room as they let their finger guns loose. Streaks of various colors tracked, bounced, or directed into the demon as the brothers began to switch up their arsenal. Avoiding waves of shadows that were metaphysical screaming, and reaching out to try and kill the two brothers.

 

Somewhere during this time, Bendy had started firing his pistols again. A rainbow of hot projectiles and weponry that put even the greatest of light shows to shame.

 

All the while, Bendy wasn't moving an inch.

 

 _He's not even trying to counter the damage, let alone avoid it. Does he think he's invincible?_ Cuphead jumped off the wall again, avoiding a group of shadows as they all came crashing in.

 

_Well, like he said, nothing's unlimited. Everything has a breaking point, and he's taking far more damage than either of us are._

 

Bendy's firearms grew silent again, their ammo fully depleted. His head was still slumped over, eyes and face completely out of sight. Posture almost looked weakened too; blood was dripping from every place possible.

 

_We can beat him!_

 

"YES," came a deep throaty groan... from the, demon? What the~ "I haven't had this much fun in AGES!"

 

This was followed by the deepest and most passionate laugh the two Cup Bothers had ever heard. It was not a laugh of hilarity, but one of pleasure; like a groom and best men in a bar together during the batular party; with everyone involved not only drunk, but beyond any hope of avoiding a hangover the next morning. All this from being shot?

 

What the hell was this creature?

 

It turned its head upward, gazing upon the two brothers. A bead of sweat rolled down their heads. One of its eyes had been shot out, a dark void filled the space, and blood poured from the wound like a drainage pipe. The other one had just barely avoided being hit; just 2 millimeters were between the eye and a hole in his forehead.

 

"Wha-What did you say your names were?"

 

By now the two brothers had returned to the spot from which they had started the fight. They glanced at each other; nervously for the first time that night. They had never seen this before. Even the most powerful demons they had faced would have been writhing by now. Yet, he was _relishing this_? How many times had he been shot? The two brothers glanced at each other one more time.

 

"Cuphead~ Cuphead and Mugman."

 

"Cuphead, and Mugman," the demon drew out. "I'll have to remember that. It's obvious you two are more powerful than I initially gave you credit for."

 

The demon then stood. _Stood_. As in _still had the capacity to stand while looking like Swiss Cheese_. He clapped the backs of his hands together, the pentagrams glowed, and stayed lit this time. He began the next phase; and shockingly, the two brothers began to hear other voices. The voices were quiet, like hearing whispers over a passionate speech.

 

Although, when the whole crowd whispers the same thing, it tends to get a bit easier to hear them.

 

"Control Restriction Level One, **RELEASE**."

 

With that final word, the voices shouted, and the room went pitch black. The light coming in from behind the Cup Brothers didn't help at all. It was like the darkness was rebelling against the laws of physics, refusing to let any light escape its grasp. It took a minute for Cuphead to realize why. The demon was overlapping shadows. It was impossible to tell how many shadows were being used. Hundreds? Thousands? All in all, it made the room look far more vast than it was; like space that just stretched on forever with no seeable end.

 

Bendy's body had also vanished, blending with this darkness he controlled. The two brothers stepped closer to each other, standing back to back, waiting for the final phase. Preparing for anything.

 

Nothing could have prepared them for what they were about to witness.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the subject of the Warners.  
> I've noted that some of you were curious about the Warners and what role they play. The biggest question is if they are a threat?  
> Don't get me wrong, I love the three to bits; however, when you really look at and study what they've done, what they do, and their mannerisms (especially in their show) you can't say I'm inaccurate in calling them... well, pests. Pests to the people they interact with. Loveable pests of course, but pests regardless. In TAP's universe, there is a question that could be raised; a simple question of 'Would they?' Because there is no question of 'could they?'; but a 'would they?' Yes. There is a question there. The Warners' intentions have never really been 'all good' or 'all bad' in ANY universe they occupy. They do what they want with that zany grey morality of theirs.  
> And taking all that into account, we add in that this particular story is a dark mirror universe to TAP's; and the fact that in this world, they’re not looking for fun. So, a threat to all parties involved? Absolutely. Why do you think I was so adamant in containing them to the story asap?  
> They keep me awake at night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really know what to say, it's good to be back.  
> I did finally add a Profile Pic, only took me a year lol.   
> One more chapter and Act 2 is done.

The rapid sound of blade sinking into undead ink filled the area halls. Boris had been at this for almost five minutes straight. As it turned out, hacking a small army of Searchers to pieces with just an axe was pretty difficult.

 

He had dropped his Howlers when he was thrown into the wall, and hadn't had time to look for them. He had grabbed the first thing that resembled a weapon and charged. He had to. Mr Mickey was in danger!

 

Now though, even with his extra strength and endurance, fatigue was setting in. It wouldn't be so bad if the weapon he was using was consecrated or had some other blessing. It didn't though. It was just an emergency axe he had stumbled upon. It was taking a full three swings at least to deal with just one! It probably would take almost triple that for one of Fantasia's guards to accomplish the same task.

 

He might have noted the irony if he was able to actually think at the moment.

 

A few more exhausted strikes later, the final Searcher dissolved; fading into the ankle deep mass of gelatinous black. A part of the remains bubbled, threatening to bring one of the soul-fused shadows back; a swing of the axe a second later dispatched it for good.  

 

Boris fell to his knees, sending a visible ripple through the lake of remains. His breaths were deliberate, labored, and raspy. Something caught in his throat, and it tightened. His free hand flew to his mouth, just before he felt substance and heat fly past his lips. To call it a cough was an understatement; it felt like the full volume of air in his lungs was being forced out at once. 

 

Something hot and wet came with it, and splattered against the inside of his palm. Another cough followed, then one more. His throat clear, Boris was finally able to breathe again; taking deep and slow breaths, trying to calm himself. 

 

With that past, he turned his exhausted eyes down to his hand. The palm was dripping with his blood. Almost on reflex, his hand began to shake. His other hand flew to his mouth as he gagged. There was a dry heave, but nothing else came up.

 

Slowly, he stood back up. His breaths were shaky, but consistent. It was only after he was on his feet did he notice that he felt unnaturally cold. Horrible in fact, far worse than the night he had first met Allison Angel. His vision was a bit blurry too.

 

All in all, he was a mess. He was still bleeding from his earlier encounter with Black Hat, and wiping out the rest of the Searchers had left him drained. He was exhausted. His clothes were torn and ruined. And now all he had to fight with was this axe.

 

Regardless, he had to go check on Mr. Mickey and Oswald. He probably couldn't do much to help, but had to make sure they were ok anyway. Resting a hand on the wall, he began to trudge back through the ink. His hand was still shaking, it would only stop when he placed it against the wall. 

 

Eventually, he managed to step out of the ink and walk the remaining distance down the hallway. Half the lights were still out; it didn't really hamper his sight, but it made the hallway look way too creepy. Even so, he continued walking until the mouse and rabbit finally came into view.

 

His eyes were still blurry, so it would have been difficult to make them out if not for their unique silhouettes. Oswald was sitting on the floor, back to the wall. Mickey was standing and looking down at his hands, holding onto something.

 

Mickey finally looked up to the werewolf, drawing a sharp breath as Boris stepped closer. Did he really look that bad?

 

"I-it's not as bad as it looks," Boris quickly said as Mickey ran up to him.

 

"Please Boris, don't be humble with me right now; it's probably worse than it looks if anything," Mickey immediately insisted. It didn't take Boris long to realize he didn't have a choice in the matter. Not caring for the state of his clothes, Mickey tore into Boris' fatigues. Boris looked down, and only then did he comprehend the seriousness of the matter.

 

He had hit the glass case with the front of his body; much of the shattered glass in the process had stabbed into him, and much of it remained. It was still bleeding.

 

"Stay here," Mickey commanded. "I'll go find a first aid kit."

 

As he stood up, Boris chimed in quickly. 

 

"I think I saw one close to where I got this axe."

 

Mickey nodded and ran off to find the kit. As he ran around the corner, Boris turned to Oswald and finally took note of his state. 

 

"What happened to you?" he asked.

 

Oswald looked at him for a moment. "You're in that condition, and you're asking about me?"

 

Boris let his head rest against the wall and took a raspy breath. "Oh, I think I got another, five minutes maybe before I pass out. So, what happened to you?"

 

Oswald stared at Boris for a moment; then he glanced up at an empty spot on the wall, and to the werewolf's surprise, took off his monical. "I just found out that the people I was sent to kill three years ago are behind all of this. When I was in Warnerburg in 1944, I carried out special operations targeting mostly demons. Then I was sent to eliminate a group of three zanies who we thought were behind most of the conflict on the ACME side. I'll spare you the details, just know I was captured and tortured until I finally escaped."

 

Boris stared at him and blinked in shock. Oswald had been captured? Tortured? The rabbit in question adjusted his coat and shivered. It was only then Boris was able to take note of the scar Oswald had on the eye that he wore the monical over.

 

"When I finally got home I decided it was time to retire. The war was almost over by that point, and too many things had changed."

 

"Changed?" The rabbit nodded. "Ok, but what's with~" Boris motioned over his eye.

 

Oswald glanced at the werewolf in confusion, then a look of realization comes to him. "That's right, you don't know a lot about us from before you met us. Ok, short version: a guy named Charles Muntz wanted to take over the family title and fortune, but didn't because he was afraid of me. So when I went MIA*, he secretly poisoned my father in hopes that he would make him the successor, as I held the birthright and wouldn't be able to claim it. Instead, he named Mickey the successor on his deathbed. So, Muntz then tried to kill Mick to claim it all himself, but my half brother is resilient. He used the air ducts to escape, before he eventually shot Muntz with his own gun."

 

Boris blinked. Mr. Mickey had shot someone before? He had murdered? Boris was no stranger to it himself, he had ended lives before that were going to end his; mostly during his time as an officer. It didn't make him think any less of Mr. Mickey. He was just surprised at such a turn in the story. What had happened?

 

"That's actually when Mickey met Bendy. Can't remember much of that part though, it's been a while since either have told me about it. Anyway, I got home from the war after being tortured to find my father dead, Muntz dead, and my brother as the new head of the family. I decided to stay away from field work after that; today was actually the first time I've directly fought an enemy in three years."

 

"Ok, but how'd you get the scar?" Boris asked.

 

"I'd...   rather not talk about that," he shivered. “Just know that my monocle has a spell that reflects the other side of my face over this side” Oswald then pulled out a piece of sausage and took a bite off of the end. It seemed to calm him down a little more, and he relaxed a bit. Around that time, Mickey returned with the first aid kit and began to tend to Boris' wounds. The painful removal of glass and insertion of disinfectant and bandages followed. It made Boris feel sick.

 

God, they could all probably use a good drink right about now.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

If you were to describe or tell the Cup Brothers the insanity that they were about to behold, they would have labeled you as certifiably insane. Someone so mentaly screwed up that they belonged in a padded room with long tangled up sleeves, and a healthy diet of pills thrown in there for good measure.

 

When the demon disappeared as more shadows overlapped again and again -- creating a massive room of void -- the rational parts of their minds told them that it was just some mind trick Bendy was playing. They had experience with such things before, Black Hat loved to play guinea pig with them. They were sure that both of them had some level of crazy in their psyche.

 

As they slowly realized, it wasn't a trick. They had no idea what they were staring at, but was starting to freak them out. Their respiratory rates increased, and their heart rates skyrocketed. In the center of the room, two glowing yellow eyes appeared. Immediately, the two brothers snapped their fingers up, about to shoot it; but then two more eyes opened beside it. Then two more. Four more. Eight more. Thirty more. Seventy. One Hundred.

 

The eyes covered the walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything in the room besides the two brothers. In front of them, beside them, above, below, and behind them became covered in these yellow eyes. The cursed eyes of Searchers. The two brothers could almost hear them, the screams of pain and terror that surrounded them. The horrifying realization hit them like a train.

 

The shadows Bendy was using were not from the building, nor were they his own. They were the collected shadows of the people he had devoured in his life. An ocean of eyes -- of shadows and souls -- staring at the two brothers and silently screaming at them.

 

The duo didn't know which way to look, in every direction there seemed to be more eyes than the last. Despite being back to back, they somehow took another step closer to each other; one of their hands' connected and their fingers interlocked. Together, they looked back to the center of the room, and saw two massive red eyes staring into them.

 

"WHAT ARE YOU?" Cuphead cried. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?"

 

A laugh responded, followed by a bellowing nightmare.

 

**"What's the matter, Cup Assassins? Step closer and fight me! And I'll show you how a REAL demon does battle!"**

 

The brothers' bodies began to shake. These assassins who did the devil's personal bidding for almost a decade. These brothers that spared and was raised by a demon whom they hated and hated them. These nearly forty year old toons who had protected their home from countless demons for nearly ten years in an attempt to right their wrongs. 

 

They were now terror-strickenly petrified; and they screamed.

 

They spun and grabbed each other, holding each other as tight as they could; falling to their knees in the process. Eyes welling up as they felt EVERYTHING close in around them. Inflicted with the desire to crush them, bury them; send them falling into an abyss with no end or bottom. Their eyes shut as the finishing blow approached.

 

It never came.

 

When the moments ticked by with no harm done to the two, they each opened one eye, still shaking. They looked up, and stared into the face of an angrily disappointed demon. His physical body was covered in the same yellow eyes, but his shape, red eyes, and mouth, were all completely untouched.

 

Along with the listed emotions, there was also a touch of disgust displayed. 

 

 **"I see,"** Bendy said, red eyes narrowing. **"You're _weak._ You stand and fight when the battle is conventional, but the moment I pull a trick out of a bag you shake and scream; no better than children about to wet themselves." **

 

"Shut up!" Mugman lashed out. "Do you have any idea how many people you've consumed? How many souls within you are crying out in suffering?!"

 

 **"Well, isn't that rich. You -- one of the devil's dogs -- lecture me about causing misery?"** A deaf man could hear the dripping poisonous sarcasm. 

 

"We fight to keep our home safe!" Cuphead cut in. "You fight because you're some lowly masochist who hunts his own kind for sport-!"

 

**"SILENCE."**

 

Both brothers snapped out of their foolishly bold insults. They crawled back a few inches, feet, tail bone, and hands against the ground. Staring up at the almost literal incarnation of the word Monster. 

 

There had only been one time in their lives they had been this afraid.

 

They wouldn't have the chance to beg for their lives though, as Bendy's red eyes almost seemed to soften. He then gave his verdict for the two quivering before him.

 

**"A masicist you say? Please, I have no intention of killing the two of you. You're not worth my time to be given even a quick death. You two are merely a pair of dogs that provided tonight's entertainment. Now run along. If I see you two again, consider yourself dead."**

 

With that Bendy's physical body approached the older sibling, staring right into his eyes, into his soul. He had noticed something strange about this Cuphead, but he had to be sure it was what he thought it was. Without warning, he brought up his index finger, and touched the cup man's forehead.

 

The last thing Cuphead remembered was the floor quickly approaching.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Missing In Action


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything wrong grammatically or what not with the story, please let me know so I can fix it. Copy and pasting to and from two different websights to get it here can cause a few errors. Sometime words are swapped out, sometimes letters; if you see anything that looks wrong, let me know and I'll fix it.  
> Thanks guys!
> 
> Oh also, my birthday just passed recently! Turned 18 this year!

Boris' eyes followed Mr. Mickey's finger as he observed Boris' reactions. The wolf pup's fatigues were all practically gone; long irrecoverable. Oswald would have to get him some new clothes when he got the chance. Bandages covered most of his body now, more than he would like to admit. He took in a long breath; partly because the examination strained his already aching eyes, and also because said eyes still had a noticeable case of nearsightedness. He subconsciously prayed that he wouldn't need glasses by the end of all this.

"Well, I don't think you have a concussion; so that's some good news," Mickey said as he stood back up, dusted his gloves, and closed the first aid kit. Boris himself sighed in relief.

"However," the mouse went on, "I want you off your feet for a few days. You're not gonna die from your wounds, but your enhanced healing shouldn't be taken for granted. I have no idea how badly this will affect you and your magic."

Oh, that's right. Boris had a limited amount of magic. Over time he was supposed to become weaker from using his magic, and just from generally being alive. After the exhausting day he had, who knew how much magic he used up?

Now he consciously prayed that he wouldn't need glasses.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew Boris' attention to its origin; and it was Pete. Perfect. What was he going to say?

"I still blame you for this, Mouse," he spat. "You arranged this meeting too quickly, and took no extra precautions~"

"Go blow it out your bazooka, Pete."

There stood Oswald, suddenly in front of the pup and mouse. His eyes were furrowed and he was not happy. All present were taken aback at the language the rabbit used. The one in question pointed an accusing finger at the mutt.

"You were the one that kept insisting we prioritize people who were easy to keep quiet, over how competent they were at their jobs. Their blood and the risk of your life are on your hands as well. Stop being a hypocrite for once."

Boris, Mickey, and Pete all stared at Oswald for a moment; before Pete growled, hurled a train of insults at the rabbit, and proceded to storm off back down the hall. He passed by Donald, who was coming to meet the trio. After a glare from Pete that made his tail curl, he finally made it to the three.

"As big of a jerk he is, I do understand wanting people who are easy at keeping secrets," he said with crossed arms. His harsh sounding tone softened right after. "At the same time, someone's gonna have to write to these peoples' families; and for everyone's sake the content of those letters will be nothing but lies."

Mickey looked down for a moment.

"Despite what Pete said, I -- and I alone -- am the head of this organization. I'm responsible for what happens to my men. Which means... ~it's also my job alone to write to their families." Boris' eyes widened at what they said to each other.

With the sobering conversation over, the duck nodded in depressing satisfaction and went back to the conference room himself. Mickey then turned to the other two in the hall.

"Wolf Pup, I want you to get some rest; don't come out of your room until you've recovered enough to laugh without hurting."

Now Boris sighed; so they were back to using that nickname huh? With a shake of his head, he stood up and leaned against the wall as he obeyed and headed back to his room. When he was finally out of sight, Mickey turned to Oswald.

"Anyone who's still alive, I want you to get them together and get a head count. I want a full report of casualties and lost logistics by tomorrow at 0900 hours."

Oswald just nodded. Satisfied with the answer, Mickey turned and began to walk down to his office. The rabbit raised an eyebrow.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To write those letters," he groaned. "I'm probably going to be up all night, and I need to get started now."

As he walked, the mouse's speed was brisk, his jaw was tight; trying to out pace the pain that he knew was coming. A tear formed in his eye. As he walked down the hall with gritted teeth, he shouted one last thing over his shoulder.

"Also, do something about these~" he caught himself from cursing, "~lights, would'ja!"

There was way more emotion in his words than he expected.

** Meanwhile **

 

Cuphead looked around and was unable to cope with what he saw. The monster they had faced had done something to him, and he must be neck deep in insanity. Shadows danced and warped in all manner of unnatural ways; they were everywhere. He couldn't even see where he was through the shadows, like jail bars of absent light; and he was in solitary for it all. One thing stood out though, and this terrified him like nothing else; the smile of that demon.

No.

No, "demon" that -- THING -- was not. No one could create a word to describe what he was. A monster that beat the devil. _The devil himself._ Something he and his brother had tried and failed to do themselves. And he didn't even take the devil's place. Why? You'd be the king of Hell! You'd have the highest position of power available for any demon, becoming the next devil; and he didn't take it?

It was something that Cuphead had never understood about the Ink Demon. Why didn't he take over? Why would he -- after defeating the devil -- leave him alive? And not just alive, but in such a powerless position? Sure, countless people were grateful he took the time to burn the contracts and completely wipe out all the influence the devil had otherwise. That was undeniable, and was great.

But WHY?

He could ask, but subconsciously he knew that this place wasn't real. That the demon who's cursed shadows surrounded him wasn't real. A memory? His imagination? It didn't make him any less terrified. He couldn't close his eyes; they wouldn't obey his commands to cut off his exposure to the nightmare around him. From somewhere in these shadows a single arm stretched out toward him. The index finger was extended out, pointing to the Cupman as it approached his forehead.

Again, he begged his eyes to shut and cut this off before it was too late. They still wouldn't obey. It was like even they were too terrified to respond. The arm got closer, closer, approaching the space between his eyes. Until finally, the gloved hand touched his forehead, and a thousand thoughts entered his mind at once. They weren't his.

Memories came up, distant ones that he couldn't even remember. Many stuck out to him; Hell, Black Hat, Dr. Flug, and pain. So much pain. Experiments. Untold alterations. It was like that monster was doing all of those crooked things to him again. He hated. He wanted it to stop. It had to stop.

It didn't.

It kept coming, sometimes the same memories repeated, again, and again. Then all of a sudden it seemed like the demon had found what he was looking for, as he focused on a single memory. It was a blur, broken, with no single consistent image; there was what looked like a needle, an IV, and then _red_. Just, _red everywhere_. It hurt, it burned, and it almost instantly spread through every cell in his body.

Behind the memory -- like a ventriloquist -- came a subtle yet somehow very present laugh. Cuphead knew the red and pain was from a memory, but he had only heard that laugh once. The Ink Demon had found something that excited him? Cuphead could barely remember this time of his life; as he had done what he could through the years to forget. There was another round of laughter, and his eyes suddenly decided to obey him. He blinked.

_"Cuphead!"_

**_GASP_ **

The cupman's body shot up as his eyes shot open. His breathing returned and he almost keeled over as the breath rushed into his lungs. A thousand senses bombarded him at once, and his eyes snapped shut as the day light blinded him. A harsh ringing tore through his ears. Then the upset stomach registered, and a hand flew to his mouth as nearly vomited. When the gagging past a moment later, he groaned and did his best to rub the light out of his eyes.

"Cuphead!"

He turned and let his hand part enough to see the worried face of his brother. Oh Mugs. Why did he have to look at him like that?

"I'm fine," he lied. "What happened?"

Mugman could only look at his brother for a moment in utter bewilderment, before he finally shook his head. After everything he still wouldn't admit it when he hurt? Why was he not surprised.

"Well, Bendy touched your forehead, you passed out, he laughed, said something like: "You might still provide some entertainment," then told me to leave with you; so I did, and here we are."

Cuphead blinked, then shook his own head. Cuss, he felt worse than when he had a hangover. He could think about what happened later.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe for now," Mugman stated, his lip going tight.

"Mugs," Cuphead drew out the name, giving him the look.

"Be mad at me later," Mugman shot back. "You need sleep."

Cuphead blinked. "When did you get assertive?"

"I only am when it comes to you; having a brother that insists on firing the first shot when hunting demons makes you pick up a trait or two. Even if you have to hide most of your worry because that brother doesn't like to take care of themselves."

That stung slightly. For once it was Mugman who was actually being the adult. Cuphead would have laughed if he didn't feel terrible in different ways. That wacko they were doing business with probably wouldn't be happy, but screw it. Cuphead didn't want to think about it right now. He let off another groan and fell back onto the bed.

Alright Mugman, you win this round.

 

**End of Act 2**


	12. Act 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to get enough time to finish this thing!  
> Questions asked, questions answered.

July: 1947

Dark Beauty Castle

 

Oswald shut the door behind him as he entered Mickey's Office. The interior was sparsely decorated, the most notable features being the stone tile flooring, paintings along the walls, and a chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. The office itself was on the top floor of one of the castle's towers. 

 

Light from the early morning spilt in through the windows, painting the surfaces of the room in vibrant orange. This made the shadows of the room seem darker though, and far more noticeable. 

 

What drew Oswald's attention though, was the lone occupant of the room. The mouse was sitting in the big chair behind the desk. Well, slouching was probably a better word. The rabbit could see that his eyes were heavy; exhausted in every sense of the word. He must have been up all night. 

 

He must have cried while he wrote the letters; so far that his eyes showed he had nothing left inside him to cry with, if the bags under his eyes and the eyes themselves were to be believed. Oswald gave his half brother a pained look of sympathy, his face visibly twisting in turmoil over his condition. Breaking the ice by saying 'what's wrong', or 'how are you', was probably a bad idea. Instead, he simply stepped forward.

 

"I have my report for you Mic," he said.

 

"Thank you," the mouse replied, bringing a shaky hand up to his temple. He was still somehow awake and somewhat functional, and Oswald would have complimented him if it wasn't the wrong time. It sent another wave of pain though Oswald as his half brother suffered. He decided to ease into the harder topic.

 

"I'll start with lost lagistic-"

 

"Just give the casualty report," Mickey interrupted. The action caused Oswald to blink, before he shut his eyes and nodded. They'd always have more money after all.

 

"Very well," he sighed. "Those present in the conference room survived, Bendy among them."

 

Mentioning the demon wasn't necessary, but he thought it might comfort the mouse slightly. "The wolf pup will likely make a good recovery as well; however, we sustained very high casualties. Specifically, out of 119 guards and officers present at the castle, 114 perished in the fight, with an unknown large number of them being turned into Searchers. Two of the survivors are too badly injured to return to service anytime soon, and one committed suiside in his hospital room earlier this morning. Bendy and Boris are the only remaining agents who survived -- not including ourselves -- who will be able to return to survive."

 

Mickey buried his face in his hands, and took a very deep breath. He let his hands slide down and fold onto his desk as he took in the situation. He had already thought too much about the human cost, and decided to shift to a more tactical approach.

 

"You mean, we're defenseless."

 

It wasn't a question. Oswald responded honestly.

 

"As of this moment; practically yes. Boris is out of commission, I need to fabricate some more wires for myself, you're in no state to fight... If the JDS were to attack right now, there's a really good chance the three of us would be done for within a few hours. With all that in mind, last night I took the liberty of hiring an emergency security force."

 

Mickey was glad Oswald was willing to take the initiative; but the action he took was far outside of his authority. The Articles that made up Fantasia's guidelines required that _even in an emergency_ , the two brothers would -- _together_ \-- need to approve of multiple things before even a single guard was able to be hired. Mickey would need to talk to his brother sometime soon. Despite their bloodlines, and their mothers' family history, Oswald ironically was always the more rebellious of the two. Mickey decided he might as well hear him out though.

 

"What kind of force are we talking about?"

 

Oswald took a deep breath. There really was no easy way to explain this.

 

"A mercenary group that go by, 'The Razgriz Butchers'." 

 

Mickey's hands tightened. "Mercenaries," he almost spat. "Groups of men who fight on no right side of war, influenced by greed and the love of money. With such a reputation and that name, do you really believe they'll be loyal enough to be of any use?"

 

Oswald forced the lump in his throat back down. "Ordinarily, I would've said no. Hell, if you had told me a week ago that I was even considering this, I'd have called you an imposter and shot you for it. I'm only making an exception this time due to the desperation of our current situation."

 

Mickey closed his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed. He decided to shift the report again. "Razgriz?" he finally asked. "...as in the mountain in Hell? The theorized birthplace of the last devil?"

 

Oswald winced, but nodded.

 

Mickey brought his folded hands up to the bridge of his nose. With closed eyes, he took yet another deep breath, and with a flat voice asked: "Was there really _no one else_ you could have hired?"

 

Oswald sighed with a grimace. "I was forced to post mortality rates. They're the only ones who applied. Besides, I've had experience with them before. They fought for the Warnerburg City Government during the civil war; plus they mostly just do hired guard jobs these days for both black, white, and grey organizations. They'll stay faithful to their contract as long as they get their due."

 

Oswald adjusted his monical. "Although, thanks to our and the JDS' work, they most certainly have had no contact with demons or monsters; and with the description I gave, I wonder if they thought the job was a joke."

 

"Well, if they did, I pity them for when they realize it's not," Mickey commented as he leaned forward. "The moment they step through the front door and sign the piece of paper, they might as well have sold their souls to us." 

 

Oswald wasn't sure if this was sleep deprived Mickey stating an exaggerated statement, or if he just lost the capacity to care after what had happened last night. Either way, he didn't like it. This wasn't the same Mickey; Oswald hadn't seen him like this since he got back from the war.

 

"Anyway," Mickey said, diverting the topic away. "Tell me what you know about the Warners."

 

Oswald shut his eyes again, recoiling in discomfort. He had known this was coming, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He took a moment to collect himself, then spoke. 

 

"The 'Warners' are three siblings who happen to be zanines. I can't even tell you what species they are beyond that. What I can tell you is that they were the inhartiers to the entire ACME corporation. Of course, when they turned eighteen, the Warnerburg Civil War had already started, so I'm not sure how much control they were given over the company. Despite this, I do know they definitely had influence from within, prior to the war. They were the ones who tried to monopolize the whole city."

 

"And you were sent to kill them?"

 

Oswald nodded. "We were hoping we could cut the head off the beast, and ACME would finally capitulate." Oswald shook his head. It hadn't worked. Not only had he not killed any of them, but the war ragged on for another year before an armistice was called. 

 

"On the Warners themselves; two of the siblings were boys, one was a girl. The first one named Wacko had a huge appetite, and in all the times I saw him, he was eating something. He was also somehow charismatic and likable by the troops he had around him. Don't let it fool you though, he's cunning and manipulative. His plans are so complex only a zanny could understand the whole thing; not to mention his talent has something to do with predicting what's going to happen."

 

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Psychic?"

 

"I don't think 'psychic' in the way we understand it, but he has a good sense at what's going to happen. On the night I was sent to assassinate him he had a steak dinner for two prepared for when I arrived. Even invited me to sit down and eat with him when I broke through the window and made it clear that I was there to kill him."

 

Mickey's lips tightened as he thought. If this 'Wacko' had that kind of power, how much did he know about Fantasia and the JDS already? Did he even somehow know they were having this conversation? Heck, he likely masterminded the attack last night himself. Thinking about it made Mickey shiver. If all this was the case, was it possible the Warners didn't even need spies to begin with? Was there no informant in Fantasia? 

 

He shelved the thought for later.

 

"The second guy was named Yakko, ironically. He must have been shot, or had a disorder of some kind; because despite his name he didn't say a single word while I was there. His face didn't really express much..."

 

Oswald's voice verbally began to drift, as if he was... lost in thought? No, it was something else. Mickey couldn't place it. The mouse's eyes and mind were still tired, so he pushed his brother's look aside for now. Besides, he had never been the same after the war; he was lucky a few weird looks from that brother were all that he had suffered. If this kept happening though, he'd have to talk to his brother about it.

 

Great, yet another thing to add to that list.

 

"...I'll admit though," Oswald went on, "he did have this~ I wanna call it; a cold, bitter, anger? I'm not sure, I was never able to understand why." 

 

His voice shifted from speculative, to deadly serious. "What I do know though, is that he's dangerous. More dangerous in direct physical combat than the other two anyway. He served as their only direct security; but he was damn good at what he did. He even caught my wires."

 

_That_ got Mickey's attention.

 

"He _caught_ your wires?"

 

The rabbit nodded. "He must have thick skin; or maybe his zanny persona makes him able to bend the laws of physics? All I know is that he caught my wires with only a little bit of blood. Just grabbed them like you might with a loose kite string."

 

Mickey stared at his brother in shock. Oswald had been once called the 'Razor Reaper', and later it became his official code name. Mickey himself had only witnessed Oswald's abilities a few times; but he knew you didn't just get a name like that. His particular talent had translated well to suit his razor wire technique; and to suit his magician hobby.

 

Though, he had stopped that last one after Ortensia...

 

Mickey shook his head, now wasn't the time. "Go on," he said, trying to get the report going again. Oswald nodded.

 

"The sister's name is Dot, not sure what I can say about her... I want to say I saw her the least, but I really didn't. I'm honestly not sure what she does, besides having a knack for appearing and disappearing at will."

 

There was a short period of silence between the two, both expecting the other to speak. It was starting to get awkward.

 

Mickey blinked and leaned forward. "Is that all?"

 

Oswald himself rubbed his neck sheepishly, then let out a deep breath. "Being in a cell and getting tortured was a heck of a distraction. Besides, the Warners were already gone by the time I escaped in 1945."

 

"Gone?" Mickey asked. "What do you mean~?"

 

"They left," Oswald cut in. "Escaped, got out of dodge, fled Warnerburg; and did so sometime before the war ended. I'm not sure when, and I have no idea where they went; what I do know is that the doctor suddenly stopped showing up to our little, 'therapy sessions', as he called them. Shortly after, the power went out and I used the confusion to escape."

 

Mickey brought a hand up to his eyes. That had been less information than he wanted, but not much less than what he expected. He'd have to ask Xedo if he could ask around and see what he could find on the Warners.

 

"Last question, how are you doing Oswald?"

 

The question caught Oswald off guard. His brother's love for him was undeniable, but he was asking now? After what happened? After he had endured a sleepless night and written so many painfully necessary lies? After another traumatic event? After his whole staff had died in a single hour? After all of that, he was still taking the time to ask about his own condition?

 

Oswald closed his eyes and smiled. Mickey really was too good for this world.

 

"I'm fine Mickey. I will admit this has reminded me of a few things I'd like to forget; the arthritis in my fingers among them~" Oswald saw a small smirk appear on Mickey's face when he said that. At least he could bring that out of him.

 

"Well, notify me if it gets out of hand will you?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say. I started College, so that's fun.

Late July: Dark Beauty Castle

Boris scratched the bandages adorning his chest as he walked down the hall. They were fresh, but between his wounds and the gause it still itched incredibly. It was just an annoyance, but an irritating one. He'd call it distracting, but that would imply that he knew what he was doing.

All he knew at the moment is that Oswald wanted to see him and he had been asked to bring his axe. This was almost starting to feel deja vu. Though this time there were a number of differences. He hadn't been really injured before, his eyes had been fully clear, he had clothes that time -- he only wore a t-shirt and boxers right now -- but, the most notable thing was how quiet everything was.

Even if he hadn't interacted with many before the attack, he had always been aware of the guards that had been present. Sometimes from passing them by, or just being able to listen where they were. He could hear well enough to hear heart beats through the castle walls, and always knew where at least a few dozen of the staff were at a time. Now though, there was nothing. Nothing but silence.

It sent shivers down his back; he moved just a little bit quicker.

Minutes later, he arrived at Oswald's office deep into the lower levels of the castle. When he entered, the rabbit was in a back room; wearing a leather outfit with goggles as he stood over a forge. He was working the bellows, intensifying the fire with bursts of heat and light.

"You have your axe?" He called over his shoulder. Boris paused for a moment, slightly surprised Oswald could hear him enter over the roar of the flame he stood in front of. He shook his head and approached.

"Put it on the workbench," the rabbit instructed as he pointed to the said table, not taking his eyes off the forge. Boris did as instructed, and watched as Oswald continued to work at the bellows. Pump after pump, feeding more air to the fire, burning it even hotter.

Finally, the material in the forge seemed to reach a satisfactory level. Moving quickly, the rabbit grabbed a pair of pliers and reached into the fire. He withdrew a small forgery cup, filled with a glowing molten metal. It almost seemed to radiate something, and it wasn't just heat. He rotated his body around, never taking his eyes off the container as he approached the workbench.

Being as precise as one could be with a cooling liquid metal, he poured the substance onto the edge of the axe's blade; coating it thoroughly. Letting it sit for only a moment, before he took the axe and submerged it in a vat of water. With a hissing of steam and rapidly cooling metal, he withdrew the baptised axe; and with a smooth stone, scraped away axcess fragments.

Finally, with a proud smile, he turned to the werewolf and stepped toward him. With outstretched hands, he presented the new blessed axe to its wielder. Wordlessly, he accepted the weapon and examined the rabbit's handiwork for himself. He could tell now what the metal had been. Consecrated silver.

"It's the same formula we use for your bullets," Oswald said, pulling his goggles off of his face. "In terms of raw material, our supplies for making new munitions is beginning to run low. There's only so many halos even fallen angels will be willing to give up before they're gone."

Boris looked up at the rabbit again, the former's eyebrow raising.

"So, I assume you want me to use the axe over Howler I and II?"

Oswald, strangely, didn't respond at first. He simply motioned for Boris to follow him as he stepped into the front room of his office. From there, he opened a side door and Boris followed him into the darkened room. There was the sound of a mechanical switch being pulled, and overhead lights turned on. What gave Boris pause though, was what the lights revealed.

A massive shooting range. Three hundred meters in length, twenty meter high ceilings, and all of it entirely underground. How did they ever build this? Where did these guys get their funding? There were even targets already set up at different intervals of distance, ready to use.

"I mostly use this room to test new weapons, but today I just want you to show me how you can perform after your injuries."

He then pointed to Howler I, which was on one of the tables in front of the range. Boris turned to Oswald and nodded, walking up and taking his stance.

"You'll be using regular munitions for practice, but they have the same ballistics as the consecrated ammo."

Boris nodded once more and loaded a magazine. With a cock of the bolt he brought the gun up to bear. He closed an eye, staring down the sights as he lined up a shot with a nearby target. He pulled the trigger.

The gun fired, the bullet flying down range. Boris jostled, and his shoulder visibly moved. He winced. This wasn't right, there was way more recoil then there should have been.

"I thought you said it had the same ballistics," Boris said, confused. Oswald grimaced as his concerns were confirmed.

"It does," he replied blankly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what?" Boris asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Oswald looked at Boris with a kind of sadness. "Your magic is still draining, and it's manifesting itself with your strength fading. We told you that the longer you wait, the weaker you'll become. The battle we had a week ago and your subsequent injuries and healing has taken a toll; I thought it might end up this bad."

Now it was Boris' turn to look away and grimace. It was back to this topic then.

"We have packs of medical blood in storage, and the door to get to it is unlocked. You don't even have to ask permission to enter, and you can take what you want."

Boris didn't look up. Oswald sighed.

"If this keeps up, you'll begin to feel a new hunger. A drive, a craving for blood. It will just keep getting stronger, and it will never ever stop. Not until you do what you need to do, or you let it kill you."

Boris, for reasons the rabbit did not understand, still didn't listen. He still refused to drink blood, to complete his metamorphosis. And for whatever reason, still wouldn't change his mind on the matter. Oswald sighed again and turned for the door. "Come along, Wolf Pup."

They exited the range and re-entered Oswald's office. With a pull of a drawer in his desk, he retrieved a small case and presented it to Boris. The wolf opened it, and swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw its contents. Why couldn't the world just throw him a bone? Inside were a pair of correction glasses.

He decided to not put them on for now. He hated the idea of having to wear them. He had never liked glasses himself. Not even sunglasses. He put the case in his pocket, and searched the room for a different topic. His eyes landed on a photo on Oswald's desk.

He was dancing with a cat, her eyes closed and her body leaning back into his outstretched arm; both had joyful smiles on their faces. Expressions of eye-closed bliss, laughing in each other's arms. A loving waltz frozen in a moment of time, captured and stored in a wooden frame.

Boris heard Oswald let out a long breath. He turned to the rabbit, who leaned against the wall of his office and had his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A reaction to him seeing the photo? He muttered something about how he should have 'put that thing away' before he turned back to Boris.

"I know you have questions, so I might as well tell you," he huffed. "Her name is Ortensia, she was my wife. I loved her, and now she's dead. Ink Illness took her ten or so years ago..." Boris blinked. He had heard of Ink Illness, saw it happen once in Sillyvision during his time on the force. The doctors who were doing the most research on it still couldn't find the cure -- some ancient and forgotten machine. Heck, some of the doctors had been killed and others had been put in jail for false charges in some mass conspiracy; of which many of the perpetrators escaped. It had taken years for the medical community to admit that the disease even existed. Though it was difficult to hide it after Snow White died from it. Even now in 1947 the cure still wasn't fully put together. A number of the parts had been found though, and most were in either the JDS or Fantasia's custody.

Oswald had paused, before letting off something that resembled a chuckle. "It's kinda funny, in a strange morbid way. You take your wife to bed, discussing the possibility of children and the moment you're about to come to an agreement, your wife starts coughing, and coughing; and she doesn't stop. Then, she starts _melting_ in your arms, and in more pain than you can understand."

Hics of sorrow mixed in with his chuckles as his smile turned sour. Boris stepped forward awkwardly, wanting to help the rabbit. He didn't get the chance though as Bendy appeared out from one of the shadows.

"Am I intruding?" the demon asked.

Oswald shook his head and walked back to his desk.

"On the contrary," he said. "I was actually hoping you'd stop by. I have something for you."

The rabbit then pulled a small case out of his desk. Why did he always keep everything in cases? Boris' first clothes he got from Fantasia, his Howlers, Bendy's pistols, now this? Boris sighed, somehow he had started to get used to this kind of thing.

Bendy picked up and opened the case, raising his eyebrows at its contents. With a free hand, he lifted out the object.

"A magazine?" Bendy asked.

"It's for Jekyll, your new pistol. I realized a few weeks ago one reason why Hyde might have been less effective against Alison was because of your bullets. You were using consecrated anti-demon rounds against an angel. It occurred to me you might be more effective if you have some specifically anti-angel ammunition."

Boris at this point had stepped closer to see it better himself. The bullets were were shaped like foreverspin tops, and radiated some kind of dark energy. It almost looked like they were carved from some kind of stone. Bendy seemed to pick up on this too.

"Millennium Obsidian?"

Oswald confirmed with a nod. Boris was puzzled.

"It just means obsidian that's at least one thousand years old," the rabbit explained. "It's a little known weakness for Angels. Much like how it's hard for a demon to heal from consecrated rounds, it should be hard for an angel to heal from these."

Oswald then turned back to Bendy. "You only get six of them though. Six bullets. That's it. You have no idea how hard it was to get an ounce of obsidian that's a thousand years old. Each one of those bullet alone cost over a hundred thousand dollars apiece. Try not to waste them."

Bendy smiled. "I could kill her with three."

Oswald strangely smiled right back. He was glad to see Bendy was still confident at least. He pulled one more case out of his desk -- Boris still had no idea how he did that -- and gave it to the wolf. Inside were a pair of khakis and a tweed jacket.

"Just something temporary until the new clothes I ordered for you arrived," Oswald explained. "We don't know when you might get deployed again, and you'll need something anyway for orientation in a few hours."

Boris blinked. Of course! He had forgotten the new guard detail were arriving today. A group of around forty to fifty mercenaries; 'The Razgriz Butchers' they were called. He wondered what they were like.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can do a really good Black Hat impersonation with my voice. You learn something new eh? The next chapter should be done quicker, as I have practically the whole thing in my mind. I might finally post another chapter of The Crimson Dusk if all goes well. I think I'm just going to post scenes from the war that I have in my mind, and they likely won't be in chronological order.

 

If you were to ask Charley why he became a mercenary, "money" would have been his only response; but that word alone left out much of the details behind it. In whole truth, it started when he and his small gang made a deal with a demon lord. While not too uncommon in the criminal underworld a decade ago, almost no one did it anymore for a single reason.

 

The devil's defeat.

 

Heck, the demon lord they had signed with had been killed by the first of the Big 3; back when he defeated the devil that first time. It actually resulted in the deaths of most floor 1 and 2 demons, along with many of the most powerful from floor 3. Charley had heard it was like that demon had gone on a rampage. Today the only demon lords who weren't dead were either too weak, too straight, or too chicken to try making another contract. Especially after they got through two more Big 3 attacks.

 

A decade ago he had been using a loophole to ensure his gang would always have the protection of a particular demon lord; so long they stayed small. So when their demon died, and their contract subsequently broke, he and his gang quickly realized that if they stayed small they wouldn't make it very far. A gang of 3 isn't enough to ensure some slightly larger group of schmucks won't come and decide to kill them. 

 

Not to mention the first Big 3 had taken their Magic Brush.

 

Their demon lord had taken the Brush because something was up in hell and she wanted as much power as she could get. And now it was gone. They didn't even know what the demon who took it looked like. In the end, they couldn't stay in the same circles as before. They needed to expand or die.

 

The problem was that they didn't have experience with keeping a territory. They were used to moving around, taking things with them, going after more machine parts. They had never settled and had never tried. 

 

Then the Warnerburg Civil War broke out. Suddenly, there was a high demand for idiots who would shoot guns for money. People who could move around quickly, perform operations that no one else wanted to do, get the short straws, the most dangerous jobs, suiside missions, you get the picture. They joined up with a bunch of ex-debtors in a similar boat to them, and even changed their name, it was after some legend one of them had talked about. It didn't take long to get a contract with the Warnerburg City Government. 

 

They fought for 5 years in the war, losing and gaining men as they went, before it ended that is. After it did, their contract once again fell out and they were forced to find new work. Mostly helping big mafia guys, or providing guards for the estate of some morally grey politician. Now they were in the castle for some rich schmuck who had inherited a fortune. They were just waiting for the guy to finally show up.

 

The group of rowdy men either sat or stood around the room, standing by quietly as they waited. A drowning noise composed of idle conversations, comments about the interior decorating and the castle itself filled the space. In the center of it all, an ape sat in a chair he had pulled from one of the side tables.

 

"Ya' absolutely sure about this stardust, Charley?" The ape who in effect was the captain turned to the sound, and saw a familiar used-to-be sailor approach him. Beside him walked a large spider. They stopped in front of him and the sailor went on.

 

"We usually don't contract with rich schmucks like this. Not to mention ya' didn't tell us much about the contract besides that you wanted to do something 'a bit different'; and said we might actually get to relax a bit for once." The spider gave a few nods and accompanying squeaks in agreement.

 

Charley chuckled at the two. 

 

"Barley, and Edgar. Come on ya' palookas, you really think I'd send us after nothing? I don't know how else to say this; they're going to be paying us to fight monsters."

 

Barley and Edgar blinked. "Monsters?" the sailor asked.

 

"Well, that's a matter of interpretation," a new voice spoke up from the door. The chatter stopped and everyone turned their heads toward the mouse that entered the room.

 

"Hi'ya fellas," he started. "Welcome to Dark Beauty Castle. You've all been hired as personal agents to the Fantasia Organization. As you might have heard, we deal with... special interest targets. Terrorists, Witches, Fanatical Cultists, basically those who abuse dark powers. Recently we've been focusing on Demons, and their subspecies. You will be helping myself, my brother, and 2 of our best agents in the fight against these monsters. For further instructions, consult the works of Bram Stoker, Catherine Crowe, Joan of Arc, and Faust."

 

A quiet fell upon the room as everyone stopped talking. Those who were in the room stared at the mouse, unblinking for a moment. Then roars of laughter ragged through the room as the men got over the surprise. Comments questioning the mouse's seriousness mixed in; "What, are you claiming that vampires and werewolves are real?" One of them asked, not believing. "Everyone knows there's no such thing!"

 

"Than everyone is quite wrong, fellas; or it might be better to say we've kept everyone blissfully ignorant. A number of you should be familiar with demons at least."

 

"Demons 're demons," Barley said, taking a step toward the mouse. "They ain't myths." Mickey smiled, and stepped aside to reveal a wolf behind him. 

 

"If you need further convincing..." the wolf stepped forward." ...may I introduce you to a genuine werewolf."

 

Boris stepped forward, wearing a smile, a t-shirt, kakkis, and a tweed jacket. Cheerfully, he stepped up and gave a friendly greeting. 

 

"Hello!" he said with a wave, trying to be as non threatening as possible. He was hoping could get along with them somehow. Boris was rewarded for his efforts with another round of laughter, as the mercenaries couldn't believe that this young thing was considered a werewolf.

 

Boris stood there for a minute, he hadn't expected that. "It's me they're laughing at, isn't it," he said looking back at Mr. Mickey. The mouse nodded.

 

"Why don't you get them to stop Wolf Pup?"

 

Boris blinked. "Yes sir!" He turned back to the mercenaries, and raised his fists into a fighting stance. "Come on then!" he called playfully with a few air punches.

 

Charley got up from the chair and stepped forward with a laugh of his own. "If this little thing is a werewolf, then I'm King Ko-"

 

 _*Wack*_  

 

Charley stumbled back, dazed. What just happened? Why did his nose hurt?

 

_*Wack* *Wack*, *Wack*_

 

He fell onto his back, stumbling. 

 

"Charley!" the sailor exclaimed, rushing over to his captain. He quickly knelt down and began checking the ape for wounds. The blood had all come from his nose, which was broken. That wasn’t so bad. Then he examined Charley's chest, knowing some basic first aid from the war. He was shocked at what he found. 3 cracked ribs. 3 cracked ribs, and a broken nose. 

 

He turned to look up at the werewolf, who was smiling and waving his finger about. He brought 2 fingers to the print of his thumb, and let them spring off; repeating the motion he had used on the mercenary. He had flicked Charley like you would to an ant on a desk? That had cracked his ribs and broken his nose? Who were these people?!

 

"I don't believe it," Barley said. "You're really telling me that pup is werewolf?"

 

"Damn right he is."

 

Everyone's heads snapped to the wall next to the door as a voice came through it. Wait, a voice had come through the~ ...right after a foot and leg came through the wall like it was a curtain, followed by the rest of a body. A tall black demon with glowing red glasses and a white bowtie. 

 

"That Wolf Pup might be the lowest of the low when it comes to monsters..." Harsh, "...but a werewolf is still a werewolf."

 

For a time, all anyone could do was stare at the demon. It was hard not to, he was imposing, taller than everyone in the room; and it wasn’t every day they had seen glowing eyes. Their attention was soon drawn away; back to the door as labored breaths and heavy footsteps made themselves known. Oswald came running into view. 

 

"I'm sorry about Bendy Mic," he quickly said. "I asked him to stay out until introductions were done but-"

 

"These men will be watching me while I sleep," Bendy interrupted, his smile unbroken. "I wanted to take their measure. Do you really think they'll be of any use to us?"

 

Neither Mickey or Oswald replied to that, and the room went mostly quiet again. The only sounds were the quiet whispers of the mercenaries between themselves as they grasped the situation. Oswald composed himself and broke the silence.

 

"Now that introductions are out of the way, I think you might be interested in this letter that came in for you," the rabbit said as he pulled an envelope out of his jacket and presented it.

 

"What kind’a letter?" Mickey asked as he took the small white folded paper. He took one look who signed it, and his eyes widened.

 

"Joey Drew Studios, Level 9."

 

Level 9 was the floor the Studio made sure got no public attention. It was what the rest of the Studio above was built to cover up. It was the Studio's anti-monster headquarters, and when she had lived there, Alison’s chambers. Mr. Drew himself was requesting to meet Mickey at a public art museum in downtown Toontown. There weren't many other details besides a wing of the museum to meet in, a date, and a time.

 

Alright Mr. Drew. Fantasia would bite this time. What did you want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I started a Tumbr for this au! It's here: https://ashipnerd.tumblr.com  
> Come and feel free to ask questions, and I'll answer them when I can!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got most of this done in 2 days. It's amazing what a quiet house will allow you to do in the end huh?

Personally, Mickey really didn't like going out in the afternoon; especially in the summer. He had started to sunburn easier the older he got, and he hated it. He guessed he shouldn't complain, his mother had the same condition after all. Nevertheless, he always got strange and odd looks whenever he was out in the day. A large wide brimmed hat, a long coat, sunglasses, parisaw; he probably looked like a vampire.

 

Well, there wasn't anything he could do about it now. At least they were standing inside and away from the sun for now. He lowered his gaze from a painting on the wall and sighed. For some reason -- that no one yet had an answer for -- during the war, color had begun to bleed into the world. Slowly, many things in the world began to have color. Many were afraid, others however were enthusiastic; embracing the change in multiple ways. This museum was the first in the world to be dedicated solely for color designed paintings. 

 

And these colors were certainly the most vibrant he had ever seen.

 

"What time is it now?" he asked, turning to his older brother. Oswald pulled out his pocket watch and looked down at the time piece with disdain.

 

"Six past, now."

 

"Unbelievable," Mickey muttered. "These fellas are the ones who set up this meeting, and yet they're still somehow the ones who're late."

 

Speak of the devil. 

 

Mickey glanced down the hall to see two middle aged men approaching. They were chatting with each other, making various gestures at the paintings they passed as they got closer. Neither had taken notice of the mouse and rabbit yet. Mickey's eyes narrowed. It was about time they got here. The one on the left was slightly ahead, he was the one doing most of pointing; that was Joey Drew alright. Behind him to his right was Henry Stine, his position had never been clearly stated in past meetings, but Mickey guessed he was to Joey what Oswald was to him.

 

Mickey turned back to the painting, keeping the two men in the corner of his sight only. That was about as much as they deserved in his eyes. The two men finally took notice of the rabbit and mouse, and their rather lack of displayed patience. Joey glanced at Henry, and he responded by looking at his watch before giving Joey a look. Joey turned back and gave a sheepish look. "It looks like we're a little bit late," he said, continuing his walk toward the Fantasia agents. "I apologize for-"

 

"That's close enough!" Mickey snapped before he turned to the two men. They knew how to take a hint and stopped walking. "What business could the JDS possibly have with Fantasia at this moment?"

 

"There's no need for harsh tones," Joey replied with that smile of his. "We didn't come all the way out to Toon Town just to pick some kind of fight."

 

"You expect me to believe that?" Mickey deadpanned. "Your field agents have shown nothing but disregard and contempt for our treaties. Last month when our forces met at Inkwell Isle, Allison openly attacked my forces and killed two of my best men! I barely _escaped_ with my head still attached!"

 

Joey at this point realized formalities were going to have no effect or benefit; so he cut them. "Alright, shut up!"

 

Mickey clenched his jaw and bared his teeth lightly. "You expect someone of Miss Allison's standing to just let that pet demon you have do whatever he wants? I honestly don't care if a hundred of your men die," Joey went on. "What's two lost to you at this point, you schmuck."

 

"Schmuck?" asked a voice through the wall. A tall demon stepped into the hallway, phasing through the wall as he spoke. "What fierce insults; over three years after you took on this responsibility and the JDS is just as irresponsible as ever."

 

Mr. Drew slapped formality back onto his words when he realized who it was. "Oh! Mr. Bendy! I thought you might come, it's a pleasure to meet you in person!"

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Bendy said as he faced the man, "and now I must say goodbye."

 

The demon then reached into his coat, drawing Hyde, his earliest gun. "Don't act surprised Mr. Drew. You insult my boss and expect me to just let you live?" He brought the gun to bear, he wouldn't miss. "I'm afraid I'm just going to have to shoot you, you damned fool."

 

"You'll agree that turnabout is fair play then?" Mr. Drew asked. It was just enough to stall the ink demon; why not let the fool give his last words? "You think you're the first one to point a gun at my face? Why don't we make this interesting?"

 

With that, Joey Drew snapped his fingers, and shouted a name to someone behind him.

 

"Allison!"

 

Everyone adjusted their sight line enough to see the fallen angel at the end of the hall. She flicked her wrist, a socket bayonet settling into her hand. Even from a distance you could make out her smile. She started to walk forward toward the small crowd; Joey had a cocky smile on his face.

 

"'I am not afraid of the tens of thousands - who have taken positions against me on all sides."

 

Joey paused for a moment. Allison was quoting scripture? Now of all times?

 

"Arise, Lord! - Deliver me, my God!"

 

No wait, that verse sounded familiar. This is what Allison liked to use when she prepares to fight a fierce opponent~ _OH NO._ Joey had just wanted to show that Fantasia and the JDS were on equal footing! A fight in public like this!? It could be a disaster!

 

"Wait! Allsion stop-" he stepped in her way to try and deter her, instead she simply pushed him aside with half a care. His eyes widened as he realized he had just lost any thread of control possible.

 

"Strike all my enemies on the jaw! - Break the teeth of the wicked!' I can end this with a few swings of my blades! No angel worth their halo will just stand by while darkness envelops all!"

 

This was getting bad. It was clear that Mr. Drew had no control over Allison at all, and Mickey had nearly died last time he had run into her. As if to say it could get worse, Bendy stepped forward between Mickey and Oswald; chuckling.

 

The demon reached up with his free hand and pulled his glasses up; revealing a pair of excited eyes behind them. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out his second pistol. He wielded Jekyll and Hyde like trusted companions. Their loaded barrels aiming straight at the angel. She in turn flicked her second bayonet into her hand, getting into a fighting stance. The energy was intense, power between them surging and tension skyrocketing. Bendy gave an accompanying laugh.

 

"So we are in agreement about something! Neither of us could EVER back down when a challenge stands before us!"

 

Allsion gave her own laugh. "Don't think I'm not better prepared demon! I never make the same mistakes twice!"

 

Mickey and Oswald knew it would be impossible to talk Bendy out of this. Both side's trump cards were in theory on leashes anyway; controllable. The problem was that no one present really knew who was holding the leash ends. There was no way to stop this!

 

Allison brought her left bayonet back, preparing a strike. Bendy in turn squeezed just a bit harder on the triggers. There was no way he would miss at this range!

 

*Wack* *Wack*

 

Two solid cracks of wood smacking against head echoed through the hall. Both the angel and demon recoiled, not expecting to be hit like that. Their heads snapped to an elderly gopher, clutching her cane with a stern and accusing expression.

 

"I'm not sure what's going on here, nor do I want the details," she started. Now everyone present stared in shock at the old woman. "But if you want to fight, then fight somewhere else! This is the third time I've tried to come here, and I'm a very old woman, and I have no idea when I will finally die. I want to see the colors this museum has on display before I do, and I wont have you or anyone else ruin it again!" 

 

Moments ticked by as everyone stared in silence. Some glanced between the old gopher and the angel and demon. Wondering how the two were going to react to her. The two in question glanced between the old woman and each other. They both closed their eyes, considering the events. Then, finally, Bendy lowered his pistols.

 

"This really isn't the time or place for a fight," he relented. 

 

"Yeah," Allison sighed as she lowered her blades. "You're probably right."

 

"Wanna try this again sometime?" he asked as he put his pistols away. He was talking like she was a friend and they had had a fun night dancing.

 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she responded in turn as she withdrew her bayonets. She then turned around and started walking back down the hallway. "I'm going back to the studio, Level 9's probably a mess now from my absence."

 

"And I'm going back to bed," Bendy replied as he turned away. "I hate waking up in the middle of the day like this."

 

As Allison passed by Mr. Drew, she looked at one of the paintings hung beside him. "This is a lovely art museum," she commented. "Perhaps next time we're here I could bring some of the children from the orphanage."

 

"Uh, of course!" Joey Drew replied, a nervous sweat dripping down the back of his head. Allsion returned a smile before she continued walking. And just like that, the two champions were gone. The leaders of their respective organizations turned to look back at each other sheepishly.

 

"Uh, now that we have the violence out of the way, you wanna grab a cup of coffee or something while we talk?" Joey offered.

 

Mickey sighed, a smile appearing on his face. "Sounds like a plan." 

 

With that, the two leaders promptly walked down an adjacent hall toward the cafe. It took a minute, but they finally stepped out of sight.

 

The moment they did, both Oswald and Henry let out the MASSIVE breaths they had been holding for a good minute. Slouching over as the massive weight of the stress was lifted.

 

"Holy cow, that was close!" Henry exclaimed, eyes wide.

 

"No kidding!" Oswald responded. "Looks like both of our organizations' trump cards hold their _own_ leash in the end huh?"

 

"Yeah," Henry nodded in agreement. "My only question is, where did the gopher come from?"

 

That... was a good question. By now the old lady had walked down the hallway she had come from, looking at all the paintings along the way. At the end of it was a security guard standing watch. Then Oswald did a double take. He quickly made sure his monical wasn't cloudy, and found it was indeed right.

 

It was Boris standing there, under cover. It probably wasn't too hard for him to fit in as a guard. It was also clearly effective as no one had noticed him yet. Boris himself finally looked over to Oswald and Henry and gave a smug smile; feeling very accomplished at the end of the day.

 

Oswald almost laughed. "So, what's this piece anyway?"

 

The rabbit turned to Henry, noting the very wide painting he was staring at. 

 

"I've heard of this one. Apparently, the artist had a vision of a large city's destruction. In it were three armies, and three champions. One champion for each army. According to him, though all three sides were at war with each other, the soldiers knew that the fight was going to be decided by the champions. Each of them were worth more than the armies they represented."

 

"Ominous," Henry remarked. "Any idea what city or armies?"

 

Oswald snickered. "Name one artist that doesn’t keep their work overly vague."

 

"Touché." 

 

**Meanwhile**

 

"So why did you ask us to meet with you? The letter you sent wasn't very specific on the reason." Mickey leaned forward on the table as he asked, the large open umbrella providing shade in the afternoon sun. The Cafe was closed today, and the inside dining area with it. Mickey readjusted his coat; he hated it but this was the only place they could meet.

 

"Despite the quarles between our organizations, it shouldn't stop us from conducting some level of business. I have some information I'm willing to trade with you," Joey said as he tapped his finger on the table. Mickey raised an eyebrow.

 

"And what exactly could the JDS have that Fantasia would want in turn?" he asked. Joey responded by placing a briefcase in front of him on the table.

 

"We know about the attack," Joey admitted. Mickey's fist tightened. "And I thought it would be a great opportunity."

 

"Opportunity for what?" Mickey asked, growing slightly irritated at the dodging of his questions. Joey was silent for a moment, before he abruptly admitted his bargain.

 

"Inside this briefcase is every shred of information the JDS has on the Warners."

 

Mickey froze, a chill ran through his body. 

 

"Information about the siblings, their organization, their roll in the war, and even where they escaped to."

 

Mickey gulped, looking at the briefcase. He then narrowed his eyes, his tone firming. "What's the catch?" he asked.

 

Joey then pulled out a piece of paper and pen, placing them in front of Mickey. The mouse knew a contract just by glancing at it. Joey wanted more territory.

 

"I know what it looks like," Joey cut in. "I'm only asking for a single piece of land."

 

With that, he pointed to the section outlining the address that belonged to the land. "We want full custody over it. It will be under our jurisdiction only, and you will not investigate anything that goes on inside it."

 

Mickey read through the contract. It said the address, and where the land was, but not much else. All Mickey could tell by it was that the land was inside the county. "What's on this land?" Mickey asked.

 

"Well, that's not really your~" Mickey pushed the contract forward, away from himself. A silent warning that if the man didn't tell, he'd leave the deal without hesitation. Joey sighed, but relented.

 

"It's a casino on the edge of the county, it's run by a demon. One of our agents has a history with it, and we have reason to believe that this demon is violating several of the remaining enforceable laws."

 

"A demon?" Mickey asked. The JDS seemed very eager to put this demon down, and if an agent had a past with that demon it would be completely understandable; but why ask for full custody? It was only a casino. 

 

Mickey narrowed his eyes. No. There was _something_ in that casino the JDS wanted. In fact, the casino being the only thing in the contract meant Joey knew Mickey would be suspicious, and could very well be mocking him with how good of a bargain this sounded. Mickey knew he should just walk~ no RUN from this, but...

 

Fantasia _needed_ this intelligence. They had reached nothing but dead ends in their investigation; it had been like the Waners had vanished off the face of the earth. No one even affiliated to the organization could pull together a scrap of information. They had nothing to go off of, no trail to follow, no scent to sniff out. Mickey took a deep breath. He hated having to do this.

 

"Fine," he said reluctantly, pulling the paper back to himself. He wrote his signature on the solid line, but held onto the contract. 

 

Joey seemed to understand, and sighed. He clicked open the briefcase, and tossed a thick file onto the table. Mickey slowly reached for it, flipping the front and revealing the contents. His breath caught in his throat.

 

Joey for once had been telling the truth. Inside the folder was a treasure trove of information. Names, ranks, organization names, military designations, logistics reports, lists of codes, troop movements, and so on. So much was here. Almost too much. 

 

How did an organization like the JDS get all of this? It was almost like... Mickey's eyes widened as he suddenly realized something. He looked up at Joey Drew.

 

"So you figured out how we know all of this," he said with that smile of his. "And you're right, the JDS are the ones who helped them escape!"

 

Mickey couldn't contain his gasp. He had figured, but to hear it from the horse's mouth...

 

"The war had been going on for so long, and both of our organizations concluded that getting rid of the Warners would in effect end the war. However, when your brother tried and failed to kill them, we concluded that we couldn't risk losing our trump card. So, we agreed to help them escape."

 

Mickey frowned, containing his anger. How big of an idiot could Joey be? Did he really think helping three warmongering zanies escape the war they started was in any way a good idea?

 

**Meanwhile**

 

Inside the closed cafe, two individuals were purposely overhearing the conversation.

 

"It sound like they're starting to put it together, they know about us and Anvilania."

 

"Nah, they don't know anything about anything yet, Doc. I'm too much of a fan of dramatic irony to let Ash give away all the details."

 

The Mad Doctor frowned. He had never understood this zany's obsession with some invisible friend named -- Ash -- apparently. Actually, he wasn't sure if this Ash was imaginary or not, but it really didn't matter to him. He changed the subject.

 

"You sound like you're enjoying all this."

 

"'Enjoying' isn't the right word. I'm excited! I feel like a kid again! I can hardly hold still I'm so giddy at the moment. Think about what's going to happen next! What great twists and turns will this story bring?"

 


End file.
